Intimate Inmates
by Call it Maglc
Summary: The choices are obvious: Run or die. The real question is which will be easier? With men on the hunt for "France's Most Wanted Man" and his sharp accomplice, can Erik and Meg figure out who wants them dead, maybe finding love along the way? An E/M Epic.
1. To Catch a Ghost

**_Inmate: –noun__._**

**_A__ person who is confined in a prison, hospital, etc._**

**_Intimate: –adjective_  
><em>Associated in close personal relations<em>**

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><p><strong><strong><em>Chapter One: To Catch a Ghost<em>****

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><p>"All I'm saying is that this whole situation is absurd, Meg," my mother grumbled, bringing over a tea kettle just at the point of boiling and pouring the scalding hot water into my teacup. My hair, still unbrushed and slightly tangled from bed, framed my face which was twisted down in an argumentative frown.<p>

"I don't think you're getting my point. If the managers of the opera had listened to him, we might not be stuck in this predicament. We had a home there, and all we have now are a few belongings that weren't singed. If they'd only-," I began, but my mother cut me off.

"I see your point clearly enough," she said, walking with her own cup of tea and sitting down at the table. "I even agree with it! Those managers were fools and knew nothing of the theatre. I'm only agreeing that this is all absurd."

"Right," I nodded, picking up one slice of toast from my plate of breakfast foods. "But if we could have prevented their ignorance, would'nt we be in a better situation?"

"Yes. But the past can't be changed. We can't travel back in time and change the outcome of this... tragedy." Mother chose her words carefully, adding a lump of sugar to the hot tea. "I can't imagine why we're even arguing over this."

"Can't you see what I mean? We can't prevent that, but we can prevent further tragedies. Just imagine it, we can help organize a team to rebuild the opera, and we can make sure that some fools don't waltz in and take over again!" I proposed. My mother looked at me as if I were mad.

"You expect the two of us to rebuild and manage the Opera?"

"No, I expect the two of us to find people to rebuild the Opera for us. You don't understand, that place has been my only home!" I reasoned.

Mother looked down at her tea and sighed. "I know that you spent your whole life in the Opera, and that it's been your only setting. But maybe we can make the best out of this. You're nearly eighteen years old, and it's about time you had a change of scenery. Leaving everything behind will let us start over again."

"But I don't _want _to start over," I whined. "I want to rise up from this, not abandon an unfinished job."

"Listen, it's a good idea, Meg. But it's not possible. No respectable architect or construction man would speak to a poor widow and her daughter about rebuilding a half-burned, expensive building, even the Opera." My mother reached out and patted my hand, smiling a sad smile at me. "But it was a wonderful idea."

"Yes, mother," I only mumbled and took a small bite of my toast.

It was approximately two weeks and three days after Christine and Raoul had fled France, the Opera House was burned to the ground, and the Phantom of the Opera had perished beneath it. The whole matter was awful. Scandalous, even. I had'nt received word from any of my ballet friends, or anyone else from the Opera besides my mother, for that matter. The fire hadn't completely ruined the Opera, but it had burned enough to be deemed unusable and unsafe. Our rooms had been mostly untouched by the flames, but only so much of it was worth taking, or we could bare to carry ourselves. It wasn't as if we could hire labour to help us; We were poor as it was, and now with the extra cost of a small apartment, our financially stability wasn't the best.

My mother dropped the subject completely, and started talking about some scandal about a lawyer in England that she'd read in the newspaper. I didn't really mind losing the argument or having my proposition rejected. I had a Plan B anyway, that was going to be carried out against my mother's wishes or not. As my mother smiled, speaking of gossip and news, I thought of the newspaper in my top drawer, rolled up beside the mask. I'd found the mask when I'd followed a search party down to the lair of the Phantom. I couldn't dream of anyone I could trust to tell, and had wrapped it in my shirt until I found a baby-blue handkerchief to wrap it more formally in. It was now placed in the bottom of the top drawer of my dresser beside the newspaper, my only reminders of what happened that night. The article still burned fresh in my mind.

End of the Phantom's Story?

"As many of you may recall, there was an uproar at the Paris Opera House weeks ago, ending with the building burning nearly beyond repair, and rumours floating around of a vengeful Phantom who had been the cause. Some claim that he had appeared at the Opera that night, and had murdered the famous Tenor, Ubaldo Piangi. Those rumours can neither be confirmed or denied, though Piangi's body was found underneath the rubble of what used to be the crown jewel of France.

"Just two days ago, a team of investigators decided to put an end to the vicious gossip of that of a Phantom, venturing down into what seemed an unscathed area beneath the Opera house. They reported back that they were surprised to find a lake, and a few hurried to cross it.

"Not much else is known about the investigation, other than that policeman George Beaure was the one to discover a seemingly lifeless body.

"'It was a body, for sure, but it seemed dead at first,' said Beaure on the topic. 'I would have believed it to be an unfortunate chap who perished that night, but the body wasn't covered with all that nasty stuff that covers the dead. So I called to the others.'

"He shouted to the other men, and to their immense surprise, the unconscious man was barely alive. How he had survived so long under the rubble and ash is mind-blowing, and a mystery to all. The man was unusual, and one side of his face looks utterly destroyed. It shows flesh, bone, and deformity to it's highest extent. The man was identified as the very Phantom who had caused the uproar and burning of the Opera House just two weeks ago.

"This 'Phantom' was immediately arrested, but did not make any attempt to stop it from happening. He said nothing, and was reported to have been extremely weak. Who this man is, Phantom or not, is still under investigation, and the man is meanwhile being held in the La Santé Prison until further notice. Officials are deciding if this man will be hanged or to let him live, and say by the end of the month they are likely to have a printed statement. No word on whether repairs will be made on the Opera have been released."

I had kept the article to myself. It seemed almost personal, the topic of the Phantom. I used to have a crush on him when I was a little girl, and my mother told me stories about a brilliant man who was terribly treated and misunderstood. I'd pictured him as some heroic, mythical prince that no one but me could understand. Only when I grew up did I realize that my prince was real, not some bedtime fiction. Not only that, but he was far from a prince. He took the appearance of death, and was a selfish, rude man who demanded pay for using an Opera that was by no means his. I'd developed more of a fearful respect for him over the years. I knew my mother had some sort of trade with him, but I'd never dove into that kind of personal matter.

When I'd first learned of some mysterious angel singing to Christine, her rise to stardom, and her kidnap, my dreams of a prince were dashed to pieces, and a new horror story unfolded itself. Time passed, and as the horror grew, the more interested and intrigued I was. I wanted to know the whole story, and make sure that I played a role in designing the fate of it. When the Opera burned, only repulsion and hopelessness filled me. My only home was gone, and I'd have to start from a completely new slate. I'd thought the Phantom had died in the fire, or in some of the collapse, and it wasn't until I saw the article that I had any hope of restoring the Opera. I had a plan, and I was bound to see my plan work.

From the stories my mother told, I knew that the Phantom was an amazing architect, and had helped design some rebuilding and renovating by passing plans through my mother, who got them from a 'reliable source'. She used to speak of him as some angel, but from what I've seen, he seemed more of a devil to me. But who am I to say that? I've always been curious about crimes and criminals. Not only was I fascinated by the man and his tragic love story with Christine Daae, who hadn't returned any of his feelings, but I thought he might be able to help me.

Of course, getting him to help me might be a bit of a problem. I'm the daughter of my mother, so at least I have a bit of respect or acknowledgement from him. I also know a lot about him. His eyes gleam emerald when he's pleased, and seem to glow gold when he's furious. He composes Operas, that are often written under different stage names, then preformed by us at the former Opera Garnier. The Phantom is quieter than a ghost, and if he was in the same room as you, you wouldn't have noticed. That always gave me chills, to think that a strange man could pop up behind me at any given time. I also knew that he was lonely down there, stuck in his own little world. There was a good chance he was mad, but I was willing to deal with insanity.

Supposing I got him to agree with rebuilding the Opera, where would we find the means or materials? Could we find cheap labour? Surely, even if the plans are brilliant and some of the most well laid out, work won't be free. All of this under my mother's nose seemed impossible, but it was merely improbable. With dedication, I thought I had a good chance. And then, there was that crazy idea I'd come up with... helping the Phantom escape prison.

Don't get me wrong. I've never been one to break the law, or even my mother's rules (too often). But all the excitement that had been caused in this past month alone couldn't just end. It felt like I was alive for the first time, always fearful and never knowing what could happen next. Maybe I didn't want to move to another home than the Opera, but living on the edge like that felt... good. Adventurous, exciting! I'd loved it, even the horror that had come from it. Only a very well written horror novel could top a romance, and I believed this story had both. I didn't want it to end. So why not urge it to continue? We could open the Opera again, and the legacy of the Phantom might continue on.

"Meg?" my mother asked.

"Hmm? Sorry, what?" I replied, shaking my head from my own thoughts.

"I asked if you had any dreams last night," my mother repeated with a curious smile.

I smiled back. I kept a dream journal by my bedside, and my mother knew I recorded everything my whimsical mind thought up. "Nothing last night, sorry to disappoint." It was the truth, although the night before that, I'd had a dream of my mother turning into a snake and trying to suck the life out of me. She'd only laughed at that and pretended to squeeze my arm.

I wasn't too much of an exciting girl, other than that. I danced, which was maybe my best feature. I was skilled in ballet, and other sorts of dancing were a bit foreign to me. I had straight blond hair that became slightly wavy in the heat and didn't tangle easily, and I didn't want to sound arrogant, but I rather liked the shape my body took. I was an avid reader, and preferred horror, romance, and mystery to medical or non-fiction stories. I knew just a bit of Latin, not too much, but I could maybe read one or two children's books in the language. I was working on my English, but French was much easier than the two. I was so thankful that I could recover my dream journal, and continued writing down my dreams. Other than that, there wasn't anything exceptional about me. My voice was only so-so, but I was usually good enough at dancing that my voice could be overlooked and I'd be cast in the chorus.

I did have dreams outside of my unconscious mind, though. I dreamed about my future, about what would happen when I finally reached adulthood. I was nearly eighteen, and was still living with my mother. My mother is kind, and won't force me into marriage or kick me out, but I knew in my heart that she'd love nothing more than to have some rich man sweep me off my feet and take me away. Personally, I couldn't see myself in that sort of future. Although I was a bit of a romantic, I was always much too independent for my own good that I always shied away from suitors or men who showed interest in me. I'd love nothing more than to become a famous dancer, or an author. My mother knew I loved to read, and knew that I wrote a bit, but I don't think she knew quite how much I wrote. I'd been working on a novel for three years, but only occasionally worked on it since I barely had any time to myself, or I'd put it out of my mind. It was a mystery novel, and the tragedy at the Opera had only inspired my creativity. If I could get to know the Phantom, or at least get him to open up, it would help my stories immensely. Imagine Meg Giry's account of The Phantom's Terror! I'd be a best-seller! My mind was already set that I was going to see the Phantom, and I'd scheduled that appointment with myself for today.

I had plans for after breakfast. I'd brush my hair, put on a suitable dress, and tell mother I was going out for a walk. I'd then catch a cab and make my way to the La Santé, where he was being held. The least he could do was talk to me. Sure, I was terrified, but I knew that a few minutes of being scared would be worth it if I could get him to help rebuild the Opera house. I'd bring his mask, to show that I intended no harm and hopefully as some sort of peace offering.

I was utterly mad. I kept telling myself that. Most of the world who'd heard of him concluded him to be a criminal, an utter vagabond and scum that deserved to be hung. But I knew there was more to the Phantom's story, and knew that if anyone could get the whole story, it'd have to be me.

With a slight sigh, I stood up from my chair and brought my now-empty plate to the sink where one of us would eventually do the dishes. My mother raised an eyebrow. "Not going to finish your tea?"

"I'm in the mood for a walk, actually. If you'll excuse me," I said, walking off towards the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. When I'd finally taken care of myself and looked presentable, I laced up a pair of dainty boots and slipped on a warm coat. I left my hair down, since it was chilly and I knew my ears would be cold if I didn't let my hair be their blanket. I smiled in the mirror, and found a young woman full of hope and ideas, half of which were impossible, staring back. It was a long shot, but I'd never have a chance at achieving my dream if I didn't take a risk or two. So with that, I made my way to the front door, hugged and kissed my mother a quick goodbye, and slipped out the door.

I hurried on my way, quickly hailing a horse-drawn cab to take me to the prison, where I was about to try to talk a criminal into escaping from jail. The driver that sat atop the cab wore a top hat and was dressed as finely as a poor cab driver could. His eyes sparkled with some sort of mischief, and asked in a confident voice, "Where to, mademoiselle?"

"The La Santé, if you'd please," I responded, and climbed in. I closed the door, and with the crack of the reigns, the horses started off, their hooves clopping against the stone road. I pulled my coat closer to my body and shivered, though I wasn't sure if I shivered from the cold, mid-Feburary weather or my heart pounding with nervousness and thrilling excitement of breaking the rules.


	2. First Impressions

_**Chapter Two: First Impressions**_

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><p>The cab slowly pulled up to the La Santé Prison with a whinny from the horses. The cab driver opened my door and led me out. I thanked the man kindly and paid my fare. He looked up to me questioningly after I paid him, his mischievous eyes gleaming a dark blue. "I did pay the correct amount, didn't I?" I asked, embarrassed and reaching my hand back into my pocket.<p>

"No, no," He stopped me. "I was just wondering what such a lovely lady is doing at the La Santé Prison all by herself." I took my hand back from my pocket and blushed at the compliment.

"Thank you, Monsieur, but it is awfully personal business, I'm afraid," I smiled and thanked him. He grinned back, but in his eyes, I could tell that he wasn't completely convinced. Who was this man, anyway? I can take care of myself, after all.

"Of course, I'm sorry to peer, Mademoiselle," He said with a tip of his hat. "Are you sure you would not like for me to stay and wait for you?" I tried to stop blushing, but with pale skin, it's no easy task.

"No, I think I'll be fine, but thank you, Monsieur..."

"Drake," He said hurriedly. "Alexander Drake." He was tall, maybe standing six inches taller than me. His hair was a dark brown and had a little wave to it, cut just a bit shorter than fashion called for. He had a gawky way of standing, but his grin was infectious, and I couldn't help smiling at his light-hearted gaze. "And who do I have the pleasure of making conversation with?"

"Meg Giry, Monsieur," I answered. He bowed to me like a gentleman and I couldn't help but smile at his act.

"It has been an honour, Meg, but I fear I must be getting back to my duty. Have to support ourselves some way, don't we?" He climbed back atop his seat on the carriage. "But who knows? Maybe fate shall bring us together once again?"

I chuckled and smiled, although I was a little wary of his freely said words. "Possibly, Monsieur Alexander. Until then," I said back. He waved to me, then snapped the reigns and set off down the road. Still warm from the short conversation with Alexander Drake, I shook my head, remembering that I had a mission. I turned to the big concrete steps and hurried quickly up them. I arrived inside what seemed to be not a prison, but a shockingly white office. I stopped for a moment, mildly surprised. There was a man at a desk who stared at me, and his eyes stared straight at me in a uncomfortable way. I looked away, partially disturbed, then proceeded to the desk.

The next few minutes were a blur, full of questioning, information, warnings, and a lot of explaining. I explained that I came to see the Phantom under personal matters. They had to make sure I had no weapons with me, and I had to go through a confusing few minutes in which I can hardly recall all that happened.

But before I knew it, I was being escorted by a guard down a dark hall that looked more like what I expected in a prison. The man held tightly onto my arm, and soon I hardly wondered why. There came a few wolf whistles and catcalls from all around. There was one grubby man who gave me a toothless grin. "Hey, gorgeous, come a little closer," He chuckled, reaching his hands out. I quickened my pace to get away from the man.

We soon arrived nearly to the end of the hall, and the guard stopped. "Here he is, the feared Phantom of the Opera. Looks quite pitiful, doesn't he?" He chuckled. I looked at a dark form in the corner of the cell, hardly the shape of a comfortable human being. I put my hand on a bar as I looked at the poor man.

"Yes, he looks quite sad to me," I whispered. I looked at the form, searching for where his head was, and I spotted it nestled in between two hands on his lap. I stared, searching for any sign of an eye, or of a nose. Something other than hair and an ear.

"Do you think you can handle being alone, Mademoiselle?" The policeman interrupted my thoughts and I turned to him, nodding.

"I'm sure I shall have no troubles," I smiled a sweet smile. Maybe now I would have a chance to talk alone with the Phantom. The man tipped his hat and made his way back down the hallway. When I had finally heard the door slam behind him, I turned to the Phantom and got down onto my knees so I was more at his height.

"Monsieur?" I called softly. "Monsieur Phantom? Can you hear me?" I saw the man look up, but just barely.

"Leave me alone," He growled in a gruff voice. "A girl like you shouldn't be in a place like this. Leave now." I was taken aback at how many words I had already gotten, but stood my ground.

"If you please, Monsieur, I should like to stay. I've come to say that although it seems most of the world is against you, I remain faithful on your side. You know my mother, don't you? Madame Antoinette Giry?" I asked. He lifted his head up completely this time, in shock, I presume. Half his face, his ugly side, was still turned away.

"Giry? You cannot be little Meg? It would be in your highest interest to leave this God-forsaken prison immediately. I can't imagine why Antoinette would let you come here." He said back.

"She didn't, and she as far as she knows, I'm out for a stroll. Yes, I'm Meg, and I want to have a word with you. I know that you're in prison, but I believe that you're more innocent than people make you out to be. I've got a plan. I need someone to-" I tried explaining, but he held up a weak hand to stop me from talking. I shut my mouth and I sat in silence for a moment.

"Innocent," He chuckled, almost darkly. "Of all the things I've been described as, I've never been made out to be innocent." I stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. "What is your real purpose? Have you been dared by one of the dancers?"

"Dared by one of the dancers?" I repeated, frowning. "Ever since the Opera was burned to ta crisp, I haven't seen a soul from the theatre. Of course I've come here on my own free will! Is it such a surprise you have a visitor? If you do'nt appreciate my company, then I shall leave."

"For your own safety, maybe you should," He grumbled and turned back around so that his whole face was shielded. I rose to my feet, honestly a bit angry. I was about to leave when I stopped myself. _Come on, Meg. He's just hurt. He probably believes that you've come to fling insults at him, or something along those lines. _I thought. So with a sigh, I turned and sat again on the cold damp floor.

He looked up once again with his face half covered. "You're still here," He stated, not exactly in a question. He sounded a bit surprised, in fact. I couldn't suppress a small smile.

"Yes, I am still here. You don't honestly think it would take that little to shoo me away?" I asked with a gleam in my eye.

"Stubbornness runs in your blood. You get it from your mother," He nearly sneered. "Why are you here, Meg? This is hardly a place for a young girl to be."

"Maybe I'm a fool, but I've come up with an idea, and I need your help," I explained. "You see, the Opera has been my only home, and seeing it burn was one of the most life-changing things. I can't bearing not living in it, and the two weeks I've been away from it are torture." I paused for a moment, thinking about what I was going to say next. "I've heard stories from my mother about you. I know that you were an architect. If it's possible that we can rebuild the Opera Garnier, then I know I won't ask for anything else in life! I can't plan this myself, no one would listen to me. Some I've come to beg for your help."

He was silent a moment, then scoffed. "Have you noticed the bars and walls? This is a prison, not the place to plan rebuilding an opera."

"That's what I was getting to," I cracked a smile. "I'll help you break out of here."

The man squinted, like he couldn't believe I was being serious. "There is nothing left in life to live for. I loved her with all my heart, and she... she left. She was terrified, of this infection, this mangled face!" He sounded more like he was talking to himself than to me. "I was a fool to believe Christine could ever love a face like this! Why have I not ended my sorrow already? I should have tied a noose around my neck two weeks ago."

"No!" I burst out. "No, can't you see there is so much more to live for? There are many more beautiful women out there, Christine was just one. I'm sure there are plenty of eligible girls who would love to have a husband like you. Besides, think! You could restore your position as the mysterious, highly regarded and feared Phantom!" I saw him clench his fists.

"You don't understand, do you?" He growled. "Have you even witnessed the horror?" He turned completely around so that his other side was facing me as well. I bit my lip as subtly as I could to stop from gasping. It was awfully horrible, like he had said, nothing much but bone and mangled flesh, with spots of scabs and red all around, with the milky white bone nearly popping out of his face. But I exhaled and calmed myself down.

"Monsieur Phantom, there has been much worse before. I have seen in the papers before horribly mangled faces worse than yours. I say that Christine was a fool to be so frightened of it," I said softly, half lying and trying to stare at his better sculpted half, to appear I wasn't staring, and so I wouldn't have to look at it. His eyes showed a small glimmer, but he turned away again.

"You are brave, little Meg, to not run. Foolish, but brave," He said, facing the back wall.

"Please don't call me Little Meg. It makes me feel so childish. I'm nearly eighteen, almost a grown up woman." I huffed.

"Seventeen..." He breathed. "Indeed, you are hardly little Meg any more, are you? There was a time when you used to be no taller than your mother's waist." I smiled and shrugged.

"I'm sorry if I seem a bit discourteous, speaking in a manner like this. I'll be the first to admit that I don't have the best manners." I laughed.

"You can't get any more impolite than killing." He commented darkly. "It's my relentless manners and sins that got me into this God-forsaken place in the first place."

"That is the very reason I have come, Monsieur Phantom. You say you are trapped here, but are you really? You are the Phantom of the Opera, the one who could disappear at a whim's notice into thin air! Truly you must be an escape artist! Why have you not already fled?" I asked. He turned to me, with his whole face and I held back a cringe.

"Meg Giry, you cannot be suggesting that I escape from prison?" He asked, half amused. "You do know that I would be the most wanted man in Paris? And death seems like such a glorious alternative than to life without Christine."

"Now listen to me! There is so much more to live for! I could hide you, if you'll agree to help me plan rebuilding the Opera. It's my only home, and I don't think I'll be able to live without it. I'm not one for change, and won't accept this fate just because of a woman. I plead you!" I expressed.

He paused, and the silence was deafening. My head pulsed. Was I doing the right thing? "It would only endanger the lives of both you and Antoinette, and it would forever be on my conscience, if I still have one, if anything happened to you two because of me. I owe my very life to your mother, and now I shall pass my life on."

"Do you not even wonder how my mother would feel if you just threw your life away!" I hissed. "She saved your life, and you said yourself you owe it to her! It would break her heart! She tries to act nonchalant and tries to change the subject away from you or the Opera, but I know the sadness she feels."

"It would only be a relief on her part, to have a murderous man out of the both of your life," The Phantom sighed. "It would be better for everyone, including myself."

"You can't be serious!" I hissed loudly, surprising him. He turned to me with big golden eyes, hinted with startle and amusement. "Can you not listen? I am not asking you to start over, I'm only asking for your aid! Without you, I'd never be able to rebuild my home! I don't care if you throw your life away when our work is finished, you can do whatever you please. But think of what you owe my mother. Any debt you owe her you own her family." I regretted what I said immediately. Letting him know his lie meant nothing to me wouldn't win him over.

"You were right, you _are_ unbelievably discourteous. You are too headstrong for your own good," He spat, but I could hear some amusement in his voice. I frowned.

"Hissing seems to be the only way I can get your attention and drag you back into reality." I mumbled.

"I don't believe that you have thought your plan out very well. What happens when the gendarme catch you working with me? You, your mother, and I will be sentenced to death. Is it worth it? I have nothing else to live for, everything I ever wanted was taken from me. You have a whole life ahead of you."

"Then tell me, what have you to loose?" I reasoned. "If your everything was a girl who didn't love you back, then you must be trained to look farther, beyond that. There are many women who would think that your acts for her were not horrendous, or despicable. They would think that those were acts of great romance, and would die to have someone love them that much." I hoped my buttering up was working.

"And I never want to leave this damned place without any covering of my face, I couldn't bear for anyone to see me cursed face once more," He argued.

I grinned. "Ah, but you see, Monsieur, I happen to have your mask that you left on that fateful night just weeks ago in your lair. I would be more than happy to return it to it's owner. It's hiding away in my dresser and has been for a few weeks, now." He raised his good eyebrow.

"My mask? I thought they had taken it. But you can't return it, you mustn't come back. This place is far too dangerous, and although the company in my last days are nice, I will not have you spending a moment more here in this awful place," He said almost regretfully.

"I _am_ coming back tomorrow, Monsieur," I stated. "There is nothing that can change that. I shall return with your mask, and-" I was interrupted by the sound of boots tramping my way. I looked to my left down the hall and there was an officer coming down, to assist me, I believed.

"I was asleep the whole time," I heard him whisper and watched him suddenly slump into his pile again. I blinked, processing his words.

"Are you almost finished, Mademoiselle?" The officer asked, arriving behind me. "I trust this criminal has caused you no trouble?" I shook my head and rose.

"No, he was asleep the whole time, and I didn't have a word with him. But I believe I'll let him sleep now, I shall return tomorrow, if possible." I said, beginning to walk with the guard back into the main office. I looked behind me one more time to the Phantom. He was still curled up, a very impressive act. _The stage had lost a brilliant actor, _I thought, turning back around.

As I exited the prison, I hailed a cab and thought during my whole ride home. I thought back to my time with the Phantom in the prison. I had made him smile with my disobedience and utter stubbornness. My mother had never told me of him ever smiling before. Was it possible that I might be able to break through to him? If I could save his life long enough for him to help him achieve my far-fetched goal, I'd never ask for another thing.

The cab halted, and I arrived home. I paid the driver subconsciously and learned my mother was out, a small note on the kitchen table revealing she was at the grocers. I sighed and went to my room, pulling open the top drawer of my dresser. I dug through piles of messily folded clothing and undergarments. Eventually, I found the mask, wrapped in the light blue handkerchief I had placed it in so long ago. I unwrapped it and stared at the striking colour of the white. I turned the thing in my hands softly. It was soft, though hard at the same time. It was a wonderful material, whatever it was.

I sighed, wrapping it back up and placing it back, closing the dresser. I needed to keep my mind off of the criminal acts I was going to commit in such a short time. I needed to take my mind off that, so on a whim, I decided to head out and meet my mother at the grocers. I flung my jacket back on and headed once again out the door and into the cool mid-morning Parisian air.

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><p><strong><em>AN The scene near the beginning when Meg is talking about the 'blur of time', it's just a blur because I've never been to a prison and have NO CLUE how it works, so use your imagination :)_**


	3. An Unexpected Meeting

_**Chapter Three: An Unexpected Meeting**_

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><p>I wasn't halfway to the grocers when I realised I hadn't eaten since I had breakfast with my mother. Checking to make sure I had enough money for some food, I looked around, finally setting my sights on a small bakery. Upon closer inspection, I realised this was the same café that one of my friends, Noellë Johnson, one of my ballerina friends, had gotten hired last summer. With high hopes and a fluttering heart at the chance to reunite with someone from the Opera, I hurried across the street.<p>

I stepped through the door, the warm air flying out of the shop, and the sweet smells of pastries and freshly baked bread hitting my face. I took a deep breath, taking in the smells and atmosphere. Stepping inside further and letting the door swing behind me, I surveyed the small bakery. There was no one, save a few customers in tables near corners of the room talking in hushed conversations. I walked up to the counter, where a man with a short red beard and a flour-dusted shirt came to my service.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mademoiselle?" He asked with a strong American accent, so it was a bit tough to hear what he was saying.

"Yes, is Mademoiselle Noellë here today?" I asked. The man gave me a questioningly look, but asked no questions and shouted for Noellë in the back. I heard a girl scream back that she was coming, and out burst a petite girl, no taller than five and a quarter feet, and with an expression of animosity for her job on every corner of her face. Although, I had to agree, the baker's life is not one of a ballerina. Her long reddish blondish hair was pinned up into a messy bun, and her dress was covered by an apron spattered with flour and dough.

She frowned at the man, then looked in my direction, her expression completely changing. "Meg Giry? My God! I thought I'd never see you again!" She exclaimed in her lower voice. She was always the lowest alto in the chorus, and we all used to tease her because her voice always sounded bigger than she actually was.

I laughed at her outburst as she hastily untied her apron, flinging it to the floor. "And such a state you decide to visit me in! You couldn't have given me ten minutes warning! Please, George, I'll be taking my break early. Twenty minutes at most, and I swear it this time! And would you please send two croissant rolls our way?" She told the bearded man. He rolled his eyes, but silently went to his work. Noellë eagerly led me to the nearest table.

"Meg, you look even more beautiful by the day. I'd kill for for your hair and height!" She complained. "What brings you to this loathsome bakery today?"

"Well, truthfully I can say I was just passing by and saw the bakery. Don't feel so special that you're the only girl from the Opera I've seen in weeks," I sighed. Noellë frowned.

"You too? I havn't seen or heard a trace of them, they all seemed to have fled in fear from that show the Phantom put on," she said, almost angrily. "What a bunch of ninnies. If you ask me, the managers had it coming for them. When Monsieur... oh, for the love of Heaven, what was that rascal's name?"

"Lefevre?"

"_That's _it! Now, Monsieur Lefevre would always read the ghost's notes, would always take the matter seriously! These two buffoons just waltz right in without a clue as to what they are doing, and suddenly the Opera house is nearly burned to the ground!" She expressed, making a show of herself.

I grinned. "You are very expressive, Noellë. What a fine actress you would make."

"I _was_, until I was cheated out of my profession by a stupid fire. Oh, good, the treats are here!" She said as the man walked over with two plates, each with a croissant, and with two glasses of water.

"Thank you," I said to the man as he set my food and drink before me. He grunted what I supposed was 'You're welcome'. But Noellë frowned as he placed the water down.

"Would you mind getting me a coffee? Black, three sugars, if you'd please," Noellë said coolly. George frowned at her, but nodded and went back into the kitchen. Noellë rolled her eyes, picking up her glass and taking a sip anyways.

"I thought you fancied a coffee?" I asked, sipping my own water.

"I don't mind either way, I just love getting on George's goat. He's such a killjoy. He's from America. Missouri, I think is what he said. But he's always so serious, I don't think I've seen him laugh once. I can swear that he made a child cry once, just by staring at them. I saw it with my own eyes!" She said, sighing.

"That's too bad," I smiled. "Say, you are nearly sixteen now? Surely you must have someone you fancy now, don't you?" She shrugged, picking at her croissant.

"Well, there _is_ this one boy down by the marketplace near the park, but I only wave at him every morning, we never talk. Oh, but he is as handsome as ever, and I see woman throwing themselves at him everyday at his stall. It angers me to see him get smothered by all these women. Surely he would never chose a wilting daisy over those lilacs," she said with some spite in her voice. "But enough about me, let's hear your story!"

"There is nothing of the romantic sort from me, the most romantic thing that has happened would only be today, which was nearly nothing at all. Nothing really worth speaking of," I shrugged, ripping a small bit off the croissant and popping the steaming buttery thing in my mouth.

"Well, if it's not worth speak of, you won't mind telling me. Anything worth remembering is worth speaking of." She commented eagerly.

"It was only an encounter with a cab driver, a man by the name of Alexander Drake. He bowed down to me, stating that maybe our fates would entwine once again," I blushed, thinking back to this very morning. "To be honest, it was more odd than romantic."

"Ooooh, looks like someone has a suitor, Meg!" She punched my arm lightly.

"Oh please, Noellë. We had only a brief meeting this morning, it's not like we're soul mates," I scoffed, plucking at the bread.

"Maybe you are! Did he really say you're fates would entwine? That's _too _sweet!"

"Or creepy," I pointed out.

Noellë rolled her eyes. "Say, where were you going in a cab? Surely not here," She inquired. I bit my lip. Should I tell Noellë of my plans?

"No, I had another place I visited today," I answered slowly.

"Where?"

"Nowhere of any particular interest."

"Then you won't mind sharing it with me."

I sighed. "If you must know, I visited the La Santé Prison."

Her eyes grew as round as saucers. "My God, Meg! What were you doing at a horrible place like _that_?"

"Keep quiet, won't you? And nothing," I replied. She raised her eyebrow, as if to say 'Really?' I sighed. "Fine! I was... I went to see the Phantom of the Opera."

Noellë nearly choked on her water that she'd been drinking. She swallowed it, then looked at me as if I had spiders crawling out of my mouth. "The Phantom?" She hissed. "What kind of business did you have with that creature?"

"He's not a creature, Noellë, he's a man."

"A horribly disfigured man that looks and behaves like a beast."

"Because you've obviously met him in person."

"Why do you defend him, anyway? Who would have any compassion whatsoever for such a criminal? He deserves to be hanged. He struck fear in the hearts of all those people." She rambled. I frowned, biting another piece of my croissant off and swallowing it.

"You don't understand. I'm not trying to defend him, but it's still awful to speak of him like some animal."

She shrugged. "But isn't he?"

I sighed. "It's impossible to make a point to you. I need him for a project."

Noellë raised her eyebrow again. "Project?"

"I'm going to try and rebuild the Opera, and I need his help. Don't give me that look, I'm _not _ crazy! I've heard he's an architect. It's not like I can plan these sort of things myself! And you can't expect a woman to show up and hire a bunch of construction men. I'd be laughed at and turned away."

Noellë still just stared at me, then sighed. "I'll have no part in your madness, but good luck with it. You're an awful dreamer. So, what've you heard from Christine?"

"Christine?" I asked, a bit surprised by the sudden change of subject.

"I thought you two were almost like sisters, right? Surely she's sent you a letter or something."

I sighed. "I thought so too, but I haven't heard any more from Christine than I have from anyone else. She's probably still trying to overcome the shock that happened at the Opera. Poor girl was scared out of her wits by the Phantom."

"You keep changing the subject back to him, what's your deal? Infatuated by the thought of his horrific and romantic actions?"

I scoffed. "Being in Christine's place must've been sheer torture."

"Oh, yes. Torture to have two men pining over you like the last piece of candy in a sweetshop. How tragic," she rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean! The poor girl couldn't help herself."

"I guess," she said, shrugging. "But tell me more about this-" But she suddenly stopped, looking out the window behind me. She had a mischievous look in her eye.

"Is this Alexander Drake you speak of tall? Sandy brown hair, and wearing dusty trousers?" She asked, looking over my shoulder. Startled, I turned around to see Monsieur Drake stepping down from his carriage, parking it outside the shop. He entered the door with a clang from the bell at the top. My face flushed, and I turned back around to face a grinning Noellë.

"That's him," I whispered.

"That is so romantic!" Noellë squealed. "Hey, I'll get his order for him, and get him to sit by you, okay?" I tried to object that it was far from romantic and was more startlingly than anything, but she was gone in a flash. My face burned a bright crimson as my impulsive friend cheerfully began chatting with him. I tried hiding my face so that being pointed out by Noellë would be a little less embarrassing.

After a moment, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder and I turned around into the surprised face of Monsieur Drake. "Mademoiselle Giry?" He asked, and smiled. I smiled half-heartedly back.

"Hello again, Monsieur," I said, motioning for him to sit down in the chair that used to be Noellë's; There wasn't any other option that would be polite. I looked over to her and she gave me a big wink before disappearing into the kitchen, and I silently cursed her for putting me into an awkward situation unprepared. Drake took the seat a bit gawkily, as if he was not sure of what to say as well. We sat in silence for a few long moments.

"Well, it's nice to see that you've made it from the prison unharmed, Mademoiselle," He complimented. I nodded, picking at the remainder of my roll.

"Yes, it all went well, and I imagine that I should visit again tomorrow," I said nonchalantly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me for peering, but may I ask what business you have at the jail? A family member or friend?" He asked.

"It is quite personal, I'm afraid, but I can tell you that he is... like family to me," I said, choosing my words carefully. He looked curious, and I was afraid that he might peer further.

"If you wish that I shall not talk of it, then it shall be done. Ah, here comes your friend with my coffee," He said, as Noellë waltzed over with the man's mug filled with coffee.

"Here you are, Monsieur, anything else I could get for you and your lady?" She asked, winking at me. I blushed and looked away from the two.

"No, I believe that will be all, thank you," He answered and Noellë flounced away.

"You'll have to excuse Noellë, she's a nasty little devil," I blushed, praying he wouldn't find Noellë to be so extremely mischievous. "I saw you outside and told her where I'd recognized you from. She found the story to be... romantic, and decided to play cupid. I'm awfully sorry."

"That's quite alright, she reminds me of my own little brother, a speeding little demon when it comes to helping others out," He commented, raising the mug to his mouth.

"Helping-? Oh dear, you must know that I didn't tell her that I wished to..." I trailed off, mortally embarrassed. Drake grinned and set down the mug.

"I'm sorry, I've made this situation unbelievably awkward, haven't I?" He said with a small smile, swirling his coffee with a spoon. "It's an awful-"

"MEG!"

I whipped my head around towards a pale-faced Noellë who was pointing out the doors, shaking. I turned towards the door and gasped. I stood up from the table suddenly and violently, not even wishing Monsieur Drake good day, and I rushed out the door of the café.

I ran out the doors and looked at the collapsed pile of a woman lying on the sidewalk. She wasn't dead, but she didn't look like she was completely alive either. I picked her up and gasped again.

It was my mother.


	4. Healing the Affliction

**Chapter Four: Healing the Affliction**

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><p>My head was pulsing as I held it in my hands. I tried to steady my breathing, although it wasn't working awfully well. Beside me sat the note the doctor had sent, and that I had just read. I picked it up a second time, skimming it's surface. It read:<p>

_Dear Mademoiselle Giry,_

_ Your mother is still in recovery, I'm afraid to say. She still hasn't spoken many words, but some scrambled sentences that seem to make no apparent sense. She has more than once mentioned the name "Meg", supposing this is you, and has also said "Wait" more than once. We're not sure what she wants, but she is desperately sill trying to fight._

_ Her broken leg and some damage to her head are setting her back. The stitches on her lip, however, went well, I'm happy to report. However, I would caution you to limit your visits, because she gets very worked up any time a visitor is mentioned, and she could damage herself even more._

_Sending you best regards and prayers,_

_Dr. Joseph._

I set the letter down and shrank back into the couch, sighing. It had been nearly a week and a half since the day at the prison and the bakery, where I'd found my beaten mother. We had rushed to the closest hospital, Monsieur Drake and I, and they had rushed her in. Monsieur Drake comforted me, letting me know that he was there for me. But I was so worried about my mother, I barely even heard him. The questions came flooding into my mind: How would we pay for this? Shouldn't we just bring a doctor to our home instead? But my thoughts were so jumbled that I couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. The worst part is that things were not looking up at all. They never gave her any kind of life expectancy, or complete recovery date.

It was not only my mother's health that I was so completely worried about, it was also the bill. I think myself to be the most vile, despicable woman, for my mother is in recovery from being torn up, and all I can worry about is the bill. But I had good reason to worry, we barely had enough money to get by, that's all. With the extra fine of the hospital, I didn't know how we would make it. I would have to hire myself some place, even though I was only seventeen. Surely there was somewhere I could work, like at the bakery with Noellë.

I felt a small tear escape my eye and I quickly wiped it away. No, no tears. I sighed, wondering how Christine would handle the situation. She would probably just take some francs from her moneybags husband, and- no. That was no way to think of a dear, old friend. Just because I didn't agree with her choices didn't mean I had to loathe her. Then again, things could be worse. I could be the Phantom, still locked-

Oh Lord, the Phantom!

I stood up quickly and raced into my room, pulling the top drawer open with rushed force and dug through it to find the wrapped mask sitting atop the newspaper article. I moaned. Now the man would never trust me! I had told him I'd be there a week and a half ago, he must have already given up hope. My blood ran cold. What if his trial's already over? What if he's already been put to death? How would the opera ever be saved? I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. Hurriedly, I pulled my stockings up and laced my boots, then grabbed my jacket and raced outside with my umbrella. It was pouring, and I opened the umbrella as I hailed a cab.

It seemed like forever until an available cab pulled up to me. I swore under my breath to whoever controlled all the time in the world for being so against me. "To the La Santé Prison, please, Monsieur," I said as I pulled down my umbrella and soaking wet from the downpour that had gotten past the umbrella, I climbed into the cab. "And please hurry!"

It took even longer to get to the prison, and I tapped my fingers anxiously on my knee, drumming to a very quick tempo. Finally, the cab pulled to a stop and I burst out of the door. The rain was still relentlessly beating and I hastily paid the cab what I could. The soaked horse and cab rolled away again, and I ran up the steps as fast as possible. Bursting into the doors, I ran up to the receptionist. "Please, tell me _Monsieur Fantôme _is still captive here!" I gasped for breath. The same man as my last visit raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, he is. But not for much longer. If you want to see him here, then you've only got one day left," He said, setting his newspaper down. My blood ran cold.

"One day?" I breathed. "For goodness sake, why?" The man shrugged.

"He's a criminal. He's either transferring, being set free, or..." He made a motion across his neck like he was slitting his own throat, then laughed to his own amusement. I could have killed him for that. Impatiently, I demanded to see the man. He just shrugged, asking for my name and letting me escort myself down the hall, because all the gendarmerie were at some kind of press meeting. I nearly sprinted down the hallway to the cell of the Phantom, and when I reached it, I almost cried with relief to see that he was still there, and still alive.

"Oh my God!" I cried out, feeling tears prick my eyes. "Praise the Lord you're alive!" I watched through blurry vision the dark green eyes that were flecked with gold stare at me with hatred. I thought I heard him hiss something to me.

"What?" I asked softly. The eyes narrowed.

"How dare you come back... do you wish to fill me with false hope again, you little demon?" He hissed in my direction. My uneven breathing was barely controlled, and I took a deep breath before I spoke.

"True to my word, I've brought your mask for you," I began in a trembling voice. "It's right here." I presented the mask, wrapped in the baby blue handkerchief of mine. He looked at the blue wrapping curiously, but made no attempt to try and reach for it. I sighed. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm unbelievably sorry that it's a whole week and a half later when we finally meet again, but this past week has been nothing but pain and worrying. I completely... forgot," I said, wincing.

After a moment, he slowly crawled up to the edge of the bars, cautiously. I saw his whole body for the first time that day and gasped. He wasn't wearing his cape, which upon closer inspection was lying down in the shadows as a makeshift bed. His hair was dirty, messed up and looked like it had bits of dried blood in it. His shirt and pants were torn, but his shirt had the worst damage. It was so bad it was almost like he was just wearing rags thrown across his body. My empty hand flew to my mouth in surprise.

"My face still looks as from a nightmare," He said, noticing my surprise.

"No, it's not your face, I'm used to that by now. It's your... you look horrible. In terms of well-being, that is. What do they do to you here?" I asked, my hand going from my mouth to the cell bar. I expected an answer from him regarding his daily schedule, but he just looked at me with confused eyes.

"Used to it?" He asked in a surprised way. "Mademoiselle, not even I have become used to it yet, and it has been with me my entire life."

"Well, maybe it's time you got used to it too. It's honestly not the worst thing on earth," I said somewhat impatiently, partially lying for my own sake. "Now what have they done to you here?" He still had a touch of disbelief etched on his face, but slowly he answered me.

"This place is a nightmare, and if there is a God, let him spare you from any horror," was all he said, and he looked back at me. He didn't seem to be so shy of showing his face any more, and truth be told, I didn't mind it very much. I really had gotten used to the mangled part of his face, and it was more a characteristic feature than something out of a horror tale. Of course, I'd prefer not to look at it, but some things couldn't be helped.

"We have to get you out of here," I whispered. He scooted over a little closer, so he could reach me better.

"I never said I was going to escape. Rebuilding the Opera's a lost cause, anyway. You not being true to your promise is more convincing that it's a useless cause. You and your mother can lead a good, healthy life without me to worry about," He said. I frowned, nearly slamming my hand down on the concrete floor.

"I wish you would stop saying things like that! And do you know how poor of condition we are in right now? Without the cost of hospital, we were barely scraping-"

"Hospital?" He interrupted. "What hospital?"

"It's... my mother," I said finally. His expression changed to a look of surprise and fear.

"Antoinette... what happened to her?" He demanded. I mustered up the courage to speak of what had happened to her. I told him of going to the bakery after the visit with him, and finding my mother outside it, beaten up with a few broken limbs, and her skin partially torn in some places. She had to have stitches across her head, and kept muttering fragments of sentences. Everyone including I had thought it had been some gang attack. The Phantom put a hand to his forehead and ran it through his bloody, messy hair. "How long do they say she has to live?"

"They didn't say. I'm... I'm afraid she might not be the same again. She might not even recover. And... and we can't afford all this, I'm still looking for a job, and we were just barely making it without all this awful... this awful worrying and bills. If I can't find a way to make money soon, we're going to be kicked out of our apartment. I-I just don't know what to do," I said, letting my tears fall freely now. I leaned my head against the bars of the cell for support as I cried and didn't care that the Phantom was right there. To be perfectly honest, I was glad to get it off my chest, even to a murderer I hardly knew. I looked up and saw the man with startled eyes, was he so surprised from my crying? I composed myself. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize. You have every right to cry if you need to. This kind of pain is no stranger to me," He said in a low voice. I gave him a small smile, and suddenly realized I still had his mask.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you've probably been missing this, haven't you?" I said as I handed him the small powder-blue bundle. He looked at the thing as if he'd forgotten about it, then reached to claim it. His cold hands brushed mine as we transferred the precious object and I shivered from the cold touch. "My goodness, your hands are cold as ice!"

"It's what happens when you spend two weeks in a cell," He said, opening the small package. "That is one of the tamer side affects."

"What's one of the worst?" I dared ask. He slid the mask onto his face slowly, and brought his face back up to meet mine. His emerald eyes which I had seen gleam once were now dull and the golden flecks in them were equally as unexciting. With his mask on, he was actually devastatingly handsome on the undeformed side of his face. I nearly blushed. I wasn't here to romance a criminal, I was here for my own, selfish reasons.

"The worst? One of the worst would be this," He said, holding his right arm up, wincing as he did so. I gasped and bit my lip at the sight. His arm on the shirt was ripped off, revealing a strong but not very muscled arm. There was a long gash across his lower arm that looked pretty fresh and was still oozing a small bit of blood. The cut was dirty, too. The mixture of crimson blood and many shades of filth made the end result absolutely horrifying.

"How on earth did that happen?" I asked, staring at the horrible thing. It needed to be bandaged, or it would be infected soon.

"The damned guards," He growled. "They come in every night half drunken and have recently taken the liking to beating on me for their amusement." I couldn't believe my ears. "'The Ugly Pig', they call me in their slurs. One of them had cut me like this with his letter opener. A quick swipe, and this is what it has turned into since last night."

"My God..." I whispered. "We need to get you out of here. But first, we need to bandage that thing up. The handkerchief is too small..." I looked down to my dress. It was a dark red shade, but I wouldn't be too devastated with it's being ruined. Quickly, I ripped the bottom of my dress, taking a small strip off much to the surprise of the Phantom. I reached for his arm and made a makeshift bandage for him, tying it up carefully. "There, that should be good until we can get better."

"Meg..." He said, but halted.

"Yes, _Monsieur Fantôme?_"

"Erik." He said.

"_Excusez-moi_?"

"That is... my name. You needn't call me _Monsieur Fantôme._ It is much too formal. Just... Erik will do."

I smiled. "Erik," I tested the name, looking up to the slightly broken man. It was amazing how broken everything was in my life suddenly. We were both broken, but maybe not beyond repair. "Erik is a very good name. I think it suits you well." We sat there for a moment in silence, and I realized I had placed my hand on top of his on the cell bar. Embarrassed, I pulled my hand from the top of his. I remembered the sole reason why I had first come here.

"So how are we going to get you out of here unnoticed?" I asked him. He looked like he was thinking.

"Unnoticed is a problem," He finally said, and I felt a small sense of victory that he was actually going to try to escape. My heart began to beat faster with the thought of breaking the law.

"The man at the desk said that you were going to be transferred somewhere else today, where is it?" I asked. Erik looked surprised.

"Transferred?" He said with a hint of bitterness. "No, it-" But suddenly there was a slam down the hall. I turned my head to look down the hall, then glanced at Erik, looking for an explanation. He raced over to his cape and tossed it to me through the bars. "Get into the shadows and stay under the cape. This could get dangerous for you."

Although I was bursting with questions, I did as I was told and crouched under the cape, directly across from Erik's cell next to an unused, dark cell. I peeked from under the cape as I watched Erik pull off his mask and hide it under his scrap of shirt, then trying to assume his position of lying down with pain and boredom. I watched a pair of black boots stomp up, followed by another black pair, although this one covered with mud.

"Wakey, wakey, big scary Phantom," The one with dirty boots laughed. "It's time to get ready for your big day." The dirty pair of boots was blocking my vision of anything Erik was doing, and I didn't dare move.

"What do you mean?" I heard Erik grumble. One of the boots shifted and I could see the look of hatred across Erik's face, staring up at clean-boots man.

"The city of Paris has found that they are caught between two decisions, Monsieur, and we are going to take you to the Opera House. There, they will decide what to do with you," Said the voice I assumed to be Clean Boots. The voice sounded very familiar... but I couldn't place it.

"The Opera?" Erik repeated. "What good can going there bring? It is nothing but charred ruins, now." Dirty Boots laughed.

"We found you underneath, you can't fool us. We know you're hiding evidence down there, and you're going to point it out to us," I saw Erik's face twist up with rage.

"Evidence? I've been in this prison for two weeks now, my old home has likely been flooded and washed out with the rain! If you want to want your damned evidence, you'll have to look for it yourself!" He yelled. "Even if I went, I wouldn't be able to walk, your good friends have taken the liking to crippling me."

"Shut up!" Shouted Dirty Boots. "If it pleases 'Your Highness' so much, we'll go and plunder through your precious home without you. But whatever we find, you won't be able to hide it from us."

"You should note that your resistance will be used against you, would you like to say anything else?" Said Clean Boots, and the humor in his voice was very pronounced. Dirty Boots put his foot in the way again, and I couldn't see Erik.

"Nothing," He said sharply. Clean Boots shifted his weight.

"Listen, Monsieur. I'm trying to help. If you just lead us down into your lair without resistance, we shall try harder for your freedom. I have compassion. I'm not a soulless demon like some people. But if you refuse, let's just say that the odds would not be in your favour."

"Why should I lead you there? Don't you know the way, that's how you found me?" Asked Erik spitefully. Where had I heard the voice of Clean Boots before?

"There are traps, we have noted. It seems you know them best, and it would be ever so helpful for you to show us down safely."

"The answer is no," Erik growled.

"Well, then. It's a shame that you won't lead us there. It makes the search harder," he said. "But not impossible. We've got other sources that would know the way down." And with that, both the vaguely familiar Clean Boots and Dirty Boots left. I stayed there under the cape until I heard the door slam from down the hall.


	5. Not Everyone Are Who They Seem

_**Chapter Five: Not Everyone Are Who They Seem**_

* * *

><p>"I think the coast is clear," Erik sighed from the cell. I lifted the cape from over me, thankful that I hadn't been seen.<p>

"Who were those men?" I asked as I handed the cape back to him. He took the cape and his gaze looked distant.

"One of the men was a gendarme, George Beaure is his name. The other is his little sidekick, though I'm not sure what his name is," He said, pulling the cape forward with his good arm. I thought for a moment.

"Beaure... the name sounds very familiar," I said as I thought.

"He was the gendarme who discovered me. If not for him, I might be lying dead in that very place," He said, half regretfully.

"Well, thank goodness that he found you. Not that it's good for you to be in jail, but it would be such a tragedy for you to die," I said softly. He looked up with thoughtful eyes. He was thinking about something.

"Thank you, Meg," He finally said. "Now, on the subject of my escape, don't worry a thing of it. I've already formulated a plan that I think should work. All I need for you to do is to stay out of the prison the rest of the afternoon, and meet outside in the back of the Leviathan at precisely nine."

I blinked. The Leviathan was a restaurant, not two blocks away from this prison. "You have already given thought to an escape? And you are positive this will work?" I knew that if we were successful, Erik would have to be hidden somewhere. The only place I could think of would be the apartment. No one ever visited, and with my mother gone, he would be shielded until we could come up with plans. When my mother made her recovery, she'd have to accept it.

"Yes, I'm sure," He said. "Now do not be late, Meg. I place my trust in you." I nodded.

"You can trust me, and you have my word," I swore, placing my hand on my heart while lifting the other in the air. Erik nodded his appreciation.

"You should leave now, and I will begin the procedure. Remember, nine o'clock," He said looking up to me. I nodded and gave him a smile.

"I promise. Until we meet again, Monsieur," I stood up.

"Stay out of trouble, Meg," He said as I walked off. "Just... be safe." I made my way out of the prison unnoticed, seeing as the man in the front was sleeping at his post. I thanked God silently for my good fortune and hailed a cab, anxious for night to role around quickly.

While in the cab, I got around to thinking about what life might be like with the Phantom. During the two encounters, I'd come to realize he wasn't quite the beast I expected him to be, like who Noellë thought he was. He actually had feelings, and wasn't very hard to talk to. I suppose the fact that people weren't dying everywhere I turned made things easier than when the Opera was still intact. It was eye-opening, really. It unnerved me a little bit that I'd have a murderer in the same household as me, just the two of us, but if my mother could trust him, then I supposed I'd have to learn to as well.

I'd almost forgotten I was only helping him escape because I wanted him to help me rebuild. Maybe after the Opera was rebuilt, he'd give me a special treatment, demand I was placed as Prima Donna. I smiled at the thought. Making friends with him along the way of this might be to my advantage after all.

* * *

><p>The clock in the kitchen struck eight as I opened the front door to leave. It was an hour until I had to meet with Erik, and I figured that being early was much preferred to being late. The door clicked behind me as I stepped into the early March chill. I breathed out and watched the little cloud of smoke twirl in the air. Smiling, I walked slowly through the apartments in the early darkness. Looking up, there were no stars, only clouds, which promised a chance of snow, despite how late in Winter it was.<p>

Suddenly, I heard pounding hoofs close by, and I woke up out of my daydream. There was a carriage, racing to get past me. I blinked in surprise as suddenly the horses came to an abrupt halt, with the driver yelling out "HYA!" The horses stopped and snorted, their breath curling around in the air, dancing in the coldness and swirling up. I was frozen in my place with shock and pulled my coat closer to me. From the driver's seat, a man hopped down suddenly and ran over to me. I took a few steps back, my heart thudding. Was I getting robbed? The early darkness kept the face of the man from me, but his voice I could still hear. "Meg!"

I stopped backing up as a result of the voice. I knew that voice, who was it? The man came into view and I cocked my head. "Monsieur Drake?" What was he doing here? He rushed up to me and grabbed my hands. They felt colder than my own, and I shivered.

"Yes, it's me. Meg, we need to go quickly. I need your help with something," He said, dragging me by my hands to the carriage. My brain was moving slower to process what was happening, and it was by the time that we got to the carriage twenty feet away that I pulled my hand from his ice-cold one.

"May I ask what on earth it is that you're doing?" I asked, somewhat angered. He couldn't just pull me like some kind of horse! He sighed, and I saw an unmistakable trace of impatience in his eyes. But they softened quickly and he took his cold hand in mine again. I wanted to pull them away, it didn't feel right.

"Excuse me for rushing you so," He apologized quickly. "But it is of important matter that you come with me right now."

"If it makes all the difference, I am engaged with something of very high importance as well," I replied. "I hope you understand that I need to get somewhere at the moment." A flicker passed his eyes and he sighed again.

"I was going to keep this a surprise, but Meg! I've found something that will make us rich beyond belief! But I need your help retrieving it," He said, squeezing my hands. I winced, as he was squeezing them a bit too hard.

"Treasure? No, I'm very busy right now, I have a meeting and I must go right now, I can't be late!" I said, trying to pull away from his grip. "Please, Monsieur, my matter is very persona-" I suddenly, my mouth was invaded by a pair of hard lips crushing down onto mine. I wasn't prepared for anything even remotely close to a kiss, and instead of the romantic kisses they describe in novels that I often read, Monsieur Drake ended up kissing my teeth. It was in utmost surprise that I pulled away, my heart beating twice it's normal rate. "Monsieur!" I gasped.

"Meg, please. In the short time we've known each other, I've been so very attached to you, would you please help me? You do trust me, don't you?" His voice pleaded, but something else shadowed his eyes. I couldn't make words come out of my mouth, and I couldn't hear anything for that matter. I must have said something like yes, because suddenly I was walked to the carriage by the man and he was back on his seat, leading the horses away.

I used the time in the cab to think, and try to evaluate what had happened there outside in the cold. A man I hardly knew had come as close to confessing his love for me as anyone ever had, although I wasn't sure if I loved him all that much back. He certainly was quite the charmer, but I wasn't sure that he even knew me. He knew my name and my slight interests, I guess, but nothing much more than that. Did he even know I was a dancer? Surely he couldn't really be in love with me! No, he had mentioned that he needed help with something, recovering a treasure of some sort. He had only kissed me because he knew that my shock would let him drag me out to the carriage. The thought that I'd been manipulated made my mouth curve down into a sour frown, and any respect I'd had for the man utterly vanished.

A sudden halt from the cab brought me back to reality, and we stopped moving. My door opened, and Drake opened the door for me. I crossed my arms as he held his hand out to help me down. "Your politeness is extravagant, but I can help myself down, thank you." I slipped down, my arms still folded and I looked around. We were outside the ashy remains of the Opera Populaire, my former home, and the place I wanted to rise up to it's former glory, if not surpass it. "Monsieur Drake, there has been a misunderstanding. I need to meet a friend at the Leviathan, and frankly if I'm late I shall never forgive myself."

"Meg, you trust me don't you?" He said, taking my hand again. He looked into my eyes but I just narrowed my own.

"Honestly, do you think I am that foolish? You are only here to manipulate me! If you do not let me go then I shall-" I said in disbelief, but he interrupted me.

"Meg, do you know how to get down to the lair of the Phantom?" He asked, his eyes boring into mine. I was startled.

"The Phantom's Lair? What on earth do you want down there?" I breathed, forgetting my reason for anger momentarily.

"There's only one thing I ask you to do. You just need to lead me down to the lair of the Phantom. Can you do that? For me, Meg?" He said, his cold hands icily still gripping my own.

I tore my hands away from his, both in my sudden confusion and because my hands were frozen as icicles. "You have no right down there! Is that where your supposed treasure is? What is to be of wealth down in that old musty place?" I demanded. He tried pulling me in again, and leaned in like he was going to kiss me again, but I popped out of his arms and got out of his grip. I gasped at his rudeness, and as soon as he turned towards me to say something, I slapped him across his face.

"How _dare_ you try kissing me again! And before that? Do you honestly think I'd share a kiss with someone I barely know?"

His soft expression suddenly turned cold and hard, and he walked over to me, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Meg, you will lead me down to the Phantom's lair, now." He nearly shouted. I was so surprised that I didn't respond for a second. Fate had plans of it's own, however, for in that moment of silence, I heard a bell from a nearby library chime that an hour had passed, and that it was now nine o'clock. I gasped.

"It's nine!" I nearly shrieked. "I need to go! Please, Monsieur Drake, I must leave NOW!" I tried pulling myself out of his grasp, but he wouldn't let me go. I pulled as hard as I could, but there was a sudden click, and my wrist was nearly pulled from it's socket. I looked down to see my hand handcuffed to Monsieur Drake's own. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry, Cinderella, but I'm afraid you might be late to the ball. I need to get down there, and if the Phantom himself won't lead me down, then you will. You are the only other source," He said in a sudden professional air. His voice had changed, in the sense that it was tougher now, but I had heard it before... I gasped as I suddenly remembered. _"Well, then. It's a shame that you won't lead us there. It makes the search harder," He said. "But not impossible. We've got other sources that would know the way down."_

He was Clean Boots, from the prison! He was the one who was trying to get down to Erik's home below the Opera! "You! You're... you're..." I tried to remember what Erik had said about him. "_One of the men was a police officer, George Beaure is his name."_ Erik had said. "You're not Alexander Drake, there never has been one, had there?" How could I have been so deceived?

Alexander Drake, Clean Boots, or George Beaure, whoever he was, frowned. He looked shocked, but mostly angry. "How did you find out?" He hissed.

"I overheard you in the prison," I said, eyebrows furrowed with sudden, even more intense animosity than before towards the man. "You-"

"The prison?" He snapped. "Why... how on earth did you overhear us? And how could you identify me like that?"

I gulped, not sure what would be safe to say. His eyes seemed to suddenly light up. "You're in association with him, aren't you?" The man grinned. "I knew you had a connection to him, but he must have told you all sorts of things by now. Say, where were you going to meet your friend? The Leviathan, you said?"

"No," I said, but it didn't sound as strong as I'd hoped.

"Aha! To the Leviathan, Mademoiselle Giry! This meeting with your 'friend' might not go as planed," He said, uncuffing his own wrist, opening the door, and handcuffing his part to the inside of the door. He shoved me in, unmoved by my protesting shrieks and screams, and slammed the door closed. He got atop his seat, and with a crack of his whip, we were off.

My heart was beating faster than ever. I begged Erik to run away in my mind, and hoped desperately that somehow in that moment, he could hear me. But the cab driven by the villain rumbled on, and with each passing second, I felt dread cover every inch of me.


	6. The Escape

_**Chapter Six: The Escape**_

* * *

><p>"HYA!" The cab stopped and so did my heart. I could hear the faint sound of music and laughter from inside of the Leviathan, the restaurant where I was supposed to meet up with Erik in the back ally to help him escape. I wondered if it would've been safer for us all if I had never come to the jail in the first place. I felt the light shake of the cab as the man who's real name was supposedly George Beaure got down from his driver's seat. My door opened suddenly, yanking my arm towards the door and bringing my whole body to almost fall out of the cab. There stood Monsieur Beaure, narrowing his eyes at me.<p>

"If you value your own life, you will not make a sound," He hissed. I narrowed my own eyes back at the man.

"And if I don't value my life enough to keep silent?" I asked, trying to buy time for Erik to run, although I knew it was useless. Monsieur Beaure just smugly grinned.

"Alright, Mademoiselle. I can play this game. If you value the life of your dear mother, you will keep your mouth shut," He said with a grin. My face paled, and I could feel the color drain away.

"My-my mother?" I said, surprised. "You didn't-" But I was interrupted by the slam of the cab door. I heard the man walking away, and the only thing that would make the whole scene complete would be some maniacal laughter from the man. But he walked away in silence like a deadly assassin. I felt a tear run down my cheek, but let the silent tears flow. Somehow, this man had a connection to my mother, why else would he threaten me with her? He must have known that she was in the pain that she was. He must have had something to do with the sabotage of her. I wiped my wet cheek, but the tears kept coming.

And Erik, the man who's trust I'd now betrayed twice, all because of my foolishness. I brought my knees up to my chest. I'd been used, and I knew it. How could someone be so cruel? But then I thought for a moment. I was trying to break the law, and I would surely be brought into some sort of legal business for being in association with the Phantom. I thought of the man named Beaure. He had betrayed my trust, but not as an accident like I had with the Phantom's. He was the true villain here. What were his true purposes, anyways? Did he have something against my family, or something against Erik? Speaking of the man, Monsieur Beaure, he never knew that I was meeting Erik BEHIND the restaurant, not inside it.

I wiped my tears away, and with that also wiped away my sadness. Anger suddenly swept through me. Curse it, I was already a criminal now, wasn't I? I was trying to break someone out of jail, and should I have succeeded or failed, I still would've been a criminal. For something beyond stupid, too! Well, it was definite that I was to be thrown into prison now, why not just build onto the record? There was still a chance that if I got out of these handcuffs, I could get Erik out of here. I took a close look at the handcuff, but it looked like I needed some kind of key to open it. There were obviously no handcuff keys left around in the back of the carriage, and for a moment I felt a sense of dread overcome me.

I put my hand to my head and scrunched up a bit of my hair in frustration, but suddenly felt something hard poke out. I pulled out the thing and to my great relief it was a hair clip! I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the Lord silently. Quickly bending the clip around, I tried picking the lock, as I'd heard some of my ballerina friends would do sometimes to sneak around. "Please let this work," I murmured as I fumbled with the pick.

It took a few seconds, but I finally opened the handcuff. I smiled hugely at my own expense and moved my sore wrist around before leaping through the carriage door. I looked over to the restaurant, but didn't see any trace of the man inside or out. I supposed he was asking around if anyone had seen Erik. Casually as I could, I ran from the security of the carriage to the ally in the back. It was darker back here, and only by the light from the street ahead could I see. I stumbled almost blindly through the ally, deeper and deeper, searching for Erik.

"Erik," I called out softly. "Erik, please come out. Please tell me everything went well. Please, please, come out!" I begged, almost hysterically. Were my efforts to escape just in vain? Something might have gone wrong back at the jail, and he was already caught. He was going to die, and if I was caught, I might die as well. I had tried aiding a prison break, and had also now escaped from the clutches of a gendarme. I moaned. "Erik, please! Are you there?" To my great relief and surprise, I heard a growl from just in front of me, which was unmistakably him. "Oh thank God you're here!" I said, running up to the sound.

"You're late," He growled. "Again. You are a very unreliable source of trust, Marguerite Giry." I sighed with both relief and sorrow.

"You must accept my deepest apologies, but quickly! We have to get out of here _now_. I can tell you the story later, if you wish to hear it. But all you need to know at the moment is that there's a gendarme after the both of us, and that's the main reason I'm late."

Although I couldn't see him, I knew his eyebrows were raised by the tone of surprise in his voice. "The gendarme are after you as well?" He asked.

"Like I said, long story," I hissed. "We have to hurry up and-" But my words were interrupted by a roar of anger from down the ally. My blood ran cold, and something told me that Monsieur Beaure had realized my escape. There wasn't a chance of escaping through there at the moment. "Is there any way out of here besides where I entered?"

"Yes, but I don't know if you could make it unless you use all of your strength. There are a few crates back here that we could climb onto the roof from. But they are big crates with a large amount for a woman to climb, do you think you could make it?" He explained. I narrowed my eyes, though he couldn't see.

"Are you saying because I'm a woman, I can't climb? Well, Monsieur Erik, prepare to be bested by said woman," I said, though I knew that in all my dress, I couldn't climb up. So I shed my coat and my heeled boots, for they were too heavy and uncomfortable to climb up in. In my now-damp socks and less heavy dress, it would be all the easier to escape.

"Okay, Mademoiselle Competition," He jokingly sneered. "May the best criminal win."

"One quick question?" I asked, smiling. I saw the vague shadow of him turn to face me.

"What?"

"Would you be so courteous as to show me where the crates are?" I asked weakly, though he could hear the smile in my voice. Erik chuckled.

"You're not as independent as you like you show, now are you?" He chuckled and I felt him grab my hand. I shivered, but not because it was cold, like when Monsieur Beaure grabbed it. I shivered... just because of the touch, I guess. And his hands were actually warm, in contrast to the other pair of hands. His hands skillfully led mine to the crates made of wood, and I took hold of the first one. We stood there in silence for a moment.

"Erm, I think I've got it," I said, embarrassed a little. He pulled his hand away quickly.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry," He said. "We... we'd better get climbing." I heard him grunt and felt the crate shake a little bit, and I knew he was climbing up. I put my other hand onto the wooden crate to grasp it and lifted myself up onto it. Getting my footing, I stood up on it, and felt the second crate right in front of me. I smiled. This was easier than he was leading me on to believe.

A sudden light flooded the dark ally and my heart stopped for a second. I froze, terrified. "WE KNOW YOU'RE BACK HERE!" Yelled the voice of Monsieur Beaure. I bit my tongue as the light crept up closer, and the shadows of two men approached. They would see us soon, and there was no way we could climb up that quickly. I looked up, and realized I had been bested. There stood Erik on the roof, about five crates ahead of me. He would have smirked if the situation had not been so dangerous. Erik looked down and seemed to see the fear on my face. He bent down and looked like he was reaching his hand out to me, to pull me up. I just needed to climb a few more crates and I could reach him.

I frantically started climbing up, and Erik suddenly held out both hands as if to say _Stop_! I froze, and looked down. There were two men, Monsieur Beaure and another, directly below us. But they didn't look up. I felt trapped. If I stopped, they would eventually see me, and we would be done for. But if I kept climbing, they might hear me and see us. What was I to do?

"She must have ran away, not down here," Said the man next to Monsieur Beaure. I heard Beaure scowl.

"No, she said she was meeting him here, at the Leviathan. She wouldn't run away," He growled.

"She might have thought the danger wasn't worth it, when she realized how serious you were. She might've just run off, ya' know?" Said the other man, trying to reason with the other. I decided that I should take my chances and started climbing again, though slowly, as to not make so much noise.

"No, she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't give up on her glorious little criminal, the she-devil. I even kissed the little demon and she wouldn't bring me down into the lair of the Phantom," growled Monsieur Beaure and I should've killed him right there for what he was telling his co-partner. The other man began to laugh and went on teasing his friend about kissing me and I felt some rage build up inside me.

I climbed up a little more with the endurance from my little burst of anger, and I reached for Erik's hand which was now within grasp. He took my hand and tried to pull me up, his struggles silent. I tried to get my footing right, but my left foot slipped a little bit and if not for Erik holding me up, I would've plummeted to the ground. Nonetheless, I still shrieked a little bit. My blood ran cold as I realized I had made noise, and looked down at the two men. Thankfully, they were'nt looking up at me. I could have cried I was so relieved.

But fate had other plans, and as I tried to regain my footing, the crate I had my stocking on began to wobble, and finally began to tumble to the ground. At the sound, the two men looked up and yelled, shoving each other to get out of the way. They moved just in time, and the crate broke open in the spot where the two had been. Looking up, they spotted us and my heart began racing again.

"Hurry!" I called out to Erik and he grunted as he tried pulling me up. There was no top block anymore, so I couldn't do anything except try to climb up the wall with my feet to help aid Erik in my escape. It would have been much easier with my heeled boots, as I could then get a grasp on the wall,at least. I silently cursed myself in my mind. I heard some shouting down bellow me from the two men.

"FREEZE!" Cried out Monsieur Beaure from down below us. I heard the sudden cocking of a gun and looked down below to see him holding a handgun and pointing it directly above me, right at Erik. I nearly shrieked, and kicked my feet up the wall as fast as I could to get up. I pulled myself up and grasped hold of the roof's edge.

"A little more!" I called to Erik and he started to drag me up onto the roof. Everything was looking up, and I was almost completely on the roof when I heard a _BANG! _and a searing pain suddenly shot through my left leg. I screamed and let go of Erik's hands in surprise and pain, and I began to scream as I fell off of the roof.

As I fell through the air and above my screaming, I heard someone yell, "MEG!" I closed my eyes, waiting to feel the thud of hitting the ground, and suddenly I hit it with a _Crash! _But I had hit the crates, not the ground. The pain was a bit less than if I had hit the concrete, but was still enough that I could barely move. I moaned with pain, and my leg felt like it was on fire. I moved so that I could see it, but my back felt like it was shattered. My breathing started to come out unevenly. I looked slowly over and saw my left leg around a pool of growing blood. I thought I would pass out with pain and fear at that moment, but I heard someone hit the ground with a thud close to the crates.

"Get out of here," I heard the someone growl, and I supposed it was Erik.

"Look what you've done!" Said another voice, and I supposed that it was Monsieur Beaure. "If you had only listened to us and showed us the way down below the Opera House! Mademoiselle Giry wouldn't be in harm's way right now!" I was too weak to do anything.

"Get the hell out of here," Erik growled louder.

"No, we're taking you back to prison, you nasty- what are you doing?" He asked and I felt a pair of strong arms pick me up bridal style. I whimpered in pain as my leg was moved. "Get your hands off the girl, she needs to be tended to by a nurse!"

"You are lucky that my time is limited to help her, or else I would slit your throats right here," threatened Erik, and I felt warm blood running down my limp leg. I felt unbelievably dizzy, and I whimpered again.

"You're not escaping from us, Phantom! Daniels, get the man, quickly! Don't let him get away!" Cried out the man, and I heard two guns cock. I heard Erik sigh and suddenly I started to bounce up and down. I supposed we were running from the man and his sidekick. I closed my eyes and unclenched my teeth that were so tight because of the pain. There was lots of screaming and yelling behind me and I heard a gun shot, followed by a second loud bang. But we kept running and it was evident that Erik had not been hit.

I felt myself placed carefully into the back of the carriage despite the roughness of the situation. The door was then slammed shut and I weakly opened my eyes. I heard a "HYA!" from the front, then the crack of a whip and the carriage began to move forward. I heard cursing and screaming from behind us from the two men as the cab drove on.

I tried to sit up straight, but it was too painful and I let out a cry. I heard a voice from the driver's seat but couldn't hear exactly what they said, I just made out my own name from the words. I looked back down to my left leg and saw the blood staining my dress and the seat as well. I prayed Erik knew what he was doing, and where he was going, as he drove us in the carriage.

I nearly expected my heart to have stopped when we finally made it to wherever Erik had planned because of all the blood loss. The horses came to a halt and I heard them stamp the ground with their hooves, snorting. My door opened and I heard Erik's voice moan. "Oh, Meg, what have I done?" I heard a rip of cloth and felt the bottom half of my left leg being touched. I groaned.

"D-don't touch it," I said weakly.

"I'm putting a bandage on it, made from my shirt. It should hold until we get you inside," He said.

"Where are we?" I asked, my words sounding slurred to my ears.

"We're at the hospital, we need to get you inside to the doctors, you took a bad beating back there," He explained. I tried to sit up but a sharp pain in my side kept me from doing anything of the sort and I tried to restrain a cry of pain.

"Y-you can't go in there. They'll recognize you!" I protested. He eased me out of the carriage into his arms and I gasped when my leg left the pool of sticky blood.

"It's okay, I've got a plan," He said in a calming tone. "Now would you please tell me what room Antoinette is in? Your mother?" He was starting to run towards the back of the hospital, and I felt myself getting weaker each moment, most likely from the blood loss.

"R-room 137," I gasped out. "It's right next to a big oak tr-" I was interrupted by coughing and my mouth was suddenly filled with something that tasted like blood. I leaned my head over and spat it out, realizing it _was_ blood.

"Don't loose consciousness, Meg," he begged, and even as he spoke I was bobbing in and out of reality. "We're here. Meg, stay with me! Is this your mother's room?" He held my head up to a window and I weakly opened my eyes. I was in so much pain. Inside, there were four beds and two small tables. Each table had a purple vase on it and one had an abandoned cup of tea. Two of the beds were occupied and I nodded my head weakly. I wasn't entirely sure, of course, since I imagined many of the rooms looked the same, but I just wanted for someone to help me that I didn't care who's room I'd appear in.

"Y-yes. I think so," I choked out and more blood came up.

"Damn it, you're coughing up blood. Stay with me, Meg." He said, opening the window with a pull and climbing inside with one fluid move. He carefully placed me in the bed across from my mother. My eyes drooped as I slowly lost my sense of what was real life and what was not. Was it real that he had pushed a small lock of my light hair back almost lovingly? It must have been fake, but I was sure the screaming was real. It came from the woman who was not my mother. I felt a small tap on my forehead and suddenly I heard the window click shut as bright lights and noise took over. I finally drifted unconscious, and didn't wake for a while...


	7. Reunion

_**Chapter Seven: Reunion**_

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><p>I woke up in the complete darkness, and at first wasn't sure if I was dead or not. After blinking a few times, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I groaned. How long had I been asleep? I was suddenly acutely aware of pain in my left leg and my back that prevent me from moving very much. I gasped and hissed out my breath slowly as I tried placing myself back again. I heard a feminine whisper and stopped moving for a second.<p>

"Meg?" The person repeated. It was my mother, I thought.

"M-mother?" I asked, my voice scratchy. I cleared my throat, but it hurt. My throat was rubbed raw and clearing my throat made it burn more. "Mother?"

"Shh, Meg, my darling! You're awake," She whispered excitedly. "Anne! Antoinette! Wake up! _Antoinette_!" She hissed and I thought I was mishearing her for a second. Was she talking to herself? But I heard the grumble of another woman and a lower voice growl.

"What in heaven's name have you woken me for?" Growled a deep, yet still female voice.

"Meg has woken! Quickly, light a candle so she can see!" Whispered my mother excitedly. There was some more grumbling, and there was a small burst of light from in front of me. Through my squinted eyes, there sat a middle aged woman, maybe a bit older than my own mother who was in her early forties. The other woman had a grumpy expression, but a kind looking face in general. She looked at me with squinted eyes closely and lit the candle.

"You were right, she does have the exact hair of Penelope," Chuckled the woman. I raised an eyebrow and yawned.

"Penelope?" I hoarsely whispered.

"She's just a nurse here. Goodness, you need a drink, don't you?" Asked my mother, who had a bed beside that of the woman. She was looking much healthier, and in the dim candlelight her features glowed. She whipped the blanket back and with shaking legs, walked over to my own bedside. There was a table to my right, and a pitcher and glass on top of it. My mother reached out and poured some of the water into the glass, and it sparkled in the candlelight. I watched silently as she looked to me with shining eyes and a triumphant grin.

"You look much better," I rasped. "This hospital has done you go-"

"Shh," Said my mother. "You need to drink." She held the cup up to my lips, but I shook my head.

"No, no, I can do it," I insisted, trying to raise my hands up to reach the glass. But my hands shook and were wobbly, not nearly fit for holding the glass of water. My mother smiled down mercifully at me.

"Allow me," She said, raising the glass up to my lips. I thankfully drank the lukewarm water, and although it had the slight aftertaste of alcohol from sitting out, the touch of wetness felt good. I thirstily drank in two glasses with the help from my mother.

I cleared my throat. "Thank you," I said, my voice clearer now. My mother pulled me into a hug, though I couldn't move much due to my soreness. "How long have I been asleep?"

My mother pulled her arms back, the sparkle still in her eye. "Just a day and night, _ma chérie._" She stepped back to her own bed and climbed in with barely a struggle.

"You mean a complete day," Grumbled the other woman. "It's the middle of the night right now, which you have so rudely woken me up." She crossed her arms and her baggy eyelids scrunched up a little bit.

"I'm dreadfully sorry," I said with a little bit of sarcasm. "I can't exactly control when I wake up, adding to the fact that I've been hospitalized."

"Meg, mind your manners, even if you are in semi-critical condition," My mother scolded from her bed. "I don't think you two have properly been introduced. Meg, this is Madame Antoinette Ellogram. Anne, this is Meg, my daughter."

"How do you do, Madame?" I said with a bit of bite. I could tell this woman was nasty. She shared the same name as my mother, but not her looks. Her eyes were like crystal, bright and sharp. The Madame was wearing a light orange nightdress and her graying mouse-brown hair was flustered all around.

"Please, no such formality," She rolled her eyes. "You may just call me Anne. It's what everyone else in this damned hospital does."

"Anne, please, Language," My mother scolded.

"I've been in this hospital for five months, and I'll call it damned if I damned want to," Anne said, not budging. "Now, Meg, dear. We're going to have to lay some heavy things on you before the nurses find you awake."

"Heavy things?" I repeated, stunned. "As in..."

My mother sighed. "I'm afraid it's what the Phantom wanted," She said. I looked from my mother to Anne.

Anne rolled her eyes again. "Don't you mind, I'm not one to be the tattle-tale. You have my word for secrecy," She swore.

"Mother..." I began to explain, my heart sinking like a mouse caught by a cat. "I can explain. I knew you wouldn't approve if-"

"Hush," my mother quieted me and I became silent. "I don't approve of what you did, Meg. But I think you've learned your lesson. There's no need to apologize."

I sheepishly gazed up at my mother, finally smiling weakly. She sighed, smiling, and shook her head. "You're a dreamer, Meg. Rebuilding the Opera, what kind of sensible woman would imagine such things? We can talk of that later, though. When the Phantom brought you in last night, Anne here woke up because of the window being open. There must have been a draft. It's the end of winter, so it's still cold out," My mother began.

"She knows what season it is, Antoinette, get on with it," said Anne impatiently. I couldn't understand how my mother tolerated the woman, but if she was angered by her, she didn't show it and just ignored the rude comment.

"Anne screamed for the nurse, as any sensible woman would do if a man cloaked in darkness had burst through her window. By that time I had awoken from all the screaming, and saw that the shadowy creature placed another person down in the bed opposing mine. The nurses were clattering down the halls, and I'm sure that he heard it, because he then leaned down to your figure and burst back out of the window right as they reached the room. They brought lights with them, and Anne stopped her screaming, though the nurses took her place in the screaming when they saw you. I must admit, you gave all of them and I quite a shock. When I saw your lifeless body on the bed, I thought that you were..." My mother trailed off, though I knew that the next word was dead.

"What happened next?" I asked eagerly. Anne yawned again and shifted in her bed.

"This meeting is very touching, but can we not postpone it til' morning? Some of us need to sleep," She grumbled.

"Anne, she's slept a whole day and been shot in the leg, would you wait a moment?" My mother scolded. My eyes widened.

"Shot in the leg?" I repeated, surprised.

"Yes, the nurses pulled you out of the room quickly to somewhere more private where they could alert the doctors. I remember just an hour later, when I saw a flash of something out the window as we waited for news of you, or a doctor to at least question us about the body. I whipped my head, and saw the flash of a white mask. The window began to open, but before Anne could scream again, he flashed inside, dropped a note on my bed, and disappeared as quickly as he appeared."

"He was like a flash of black lightning across the room," commented Anne.

"I opened the note with Anne peering over my shoulder, and read it's contents. Here, it's right near my table if you care to read it," My mother said, grabbing a small piece of ripped paper and she made her way over to me. I took the tattered note in my hands and slowly opened the top.

_**My Dearest Antoinette,**_

_** Words cannot describe my deepest sorrow and regret, but do not blame Meg. I am the only one at fault in this situation. If I had ever known that she would be harmed in this process, I would have never agreed to her helping me escape. I guess the only place I can begin is about a week ago...**_

The letter then quickly reviewed my visits with him in the prison, talked to him and promised him to return. He then talked about the next miserable week, and finally the day of the escape.

… _**up the crates. Of course, I climbed the crates easily, as I had descended them not twenty minutes beforehand. I had reached the top and saw Meg slowly climbing her way up the second crate when I heard the voices of men and the brief flash of light from a lantern. I reached my hand down to help her, and she climbed slowly up it,**_

_** I think I should inform you of what they were talking of however, and I heard one of the men, George Beaure, say that he had manipulated your daughter, and had gotten information out of her with actions that seemed outrageous. The man, Beaure, had posed as a man named Alexander Drake, and I should let you know that he made contact with her lips. Of course, that sort of disrespect was uncalled for, and I was infuriated that anyone should treat your daughter in that crude way.**_

_** Unfortunately, Meg lost her footing and one of the crates slipped. It tumbled to the ground and surprised the men. Beaure pulled a hand pistol from his coat and aimed it up at me. I was prepared to pull Meg up quickly to avoid the contact with the bullet for either of us. Meg kicked herself up with my aid, but it just so happened that the pistol shot at that moment and it was her left leg that felt the bite of the bullet. In her surprise, she let go the the roof and slipped out of my hands, swirling downwards. To her luck, her fall was mostly broken by a crate, and she didn't hit the concrete.**_

_** I kept Meg conscious long enough to escape the hooligans and rush to the hospital, where she pointed out your room. I then rushed inside, where your dear friend had the courtesy to scream her head off at my sight. I placed Meg down, making sure that her leg would be at ease, as she had lost a lot of blood already. I believe you can recount from then, as this only happened an hour ago.**_

_** I must beg you that you do not use Meg's name, and you say that you are not related to her through blood, but merely through friendship. If the doctors ask, say that her name is something else. If you have no name, call her Aminta Rosseau, and is but a friend who you knew was visiting Paris. Aminta is from Quimper, but her family cannot be reached at the moment. I pray you keep her true name and your relation away from anyone in a formal position. The gendarme will be in hot pursuit of me, and Meg will be followed as well. If possible, get her a hat to cover her hair and make her up so that she cannot be so easily recognized.**_

_** Once again, if I could change the past, this would have never happened. I only hope for your and Meg's forgiveness, and for her safe recovery. Do not let anyone untrustworthy find this note, or things might grow to be treacherous. Know that I am still here in Paris, but do not wonder where, it's no use to worry over that. Meg would surely kill me to know that I had left without so much as a parting word to her, and it is the very least I owe her. I shall come to visit at precisely one in the morning, when most nurses and doctor should be asleep.**_

_**Your obedient friend,**_

_**O.G.**_

"It was the longest few hours in my life before one of the nurses came in and interviewed us," My mother said as I set the letter down, finishing it. Shot in the leg? That must have been the unbearable pain I had felt and could still feel stinging. "From now on, if I call your name, both Anne and I shall refer to you as Aminta Rosseau in public,okay?

_ "Oui_," I agreed, only half listening. "Mother, it says he will visit at one, surely it must be that time already?"

"It's past one, Meg. Your lovely, murderous friend was gone at least two hours ago. I daresay it's nearly four in the morning," chirped Anne, possibly realizing that sleep may not come so easily.

"He hasn't left, has he? To run off?" I asked, partially panicked. I hadn't broken half the bone in my body just to watch him walk away unharmed. He owed my the Opera, and after this, I was determined my project would be completed.

"No," She said slowly. "But you will not travel anywhere out of Paris. Especially not with the Phantom." She looked to me sternly, and I was confused, shocked, even. "I should have held you back on that day when you first went to the jail."

"You couldn't help it, you didn't know. And if you had, then Erik would already be dead!" I argued. "As well as that is, I have no intention with following the man to run off. In fact, I just wanted to help him escape so he could help me rebuild. What he does with his life afterwords is completely up to him!"

My mother's eyes seemed to soften and I saw her muscles relax from the placement of the blanket. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Marguerite. I-I don't know why I'm getting so worked up. So he's told you his name, then?"

"Yes. I suppose he's an old family friend, in ways. So it's not too surprising, I hope," I said back, still stunned from my mother's performance.

"An old family friend, that is all?" My mother muttered, chuckling a bit to herself. "I should graciously hope that is all he is. Anne is right, that us old women need our sleep." My mother lay down and settled to get comfortable in her bed with a small smile at me.

"Speak for yourself, 'Old Woman'," teased Anne. My mother didn't respond or stir, and Anne turned to me. "You know, although she won't admit it, she's afraid of losing you to this suitor."

"He's hardly a suitor, I barely even know the man. He is only a friend that I need, and it would be a preposterous assumption to make," I said looking at Anne with a small laugh.

"Don't try to fool me! I've been on this earth for more than fifty years, and I know a suitor when I see one. The clues are everywhere, Meg. He let you help him escape prison, and brought you to the hospital for your leg, and refuses to leave until he knows that you will be safe! Not to mention what I saw when he brought you in last night," Anne argued back.

"When he brought me in?" I repeated. She nodded softly.

"While I was busy screaming, I noticed that when this Phantom man heard the crashing footsteps of the crowd trying to tend to my cries, he leaned down and kissed your forehead," Anne said with a small smirk. I felt my face grow hotter.

"You must have been mistaken. It was dark and you had only just awoken," I argued back.

"I know what I saw, darling. It's no use to argue over it. But your mother is correct, we should get our sleep. I'm tired as hell, and might just faint away any second now," She said, yawning.

She lay down and blew out the candle, leaving me in complete darkness. I snuggled back into my bed after a moment, taking her advice and thinking about the words she'd said, outrageous or not.

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><p><strong><em>AN **_Quimper is a city in France. And yes, Aminta is the character that Christine played in Don Juan Triumphant. ;)_**_**


	8. Reviewing the Situation

_**Chapter Eight: Reviewing the Situation**_

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><p>The day was a huge blur of motion and questioning, and by noon, I was tired once again, even after so much sleep the day before. If it was not for Anne and my mother, who still had not spoke much to me after last night, I might have fainted right then and there from all the interviews. As it turns out, Anne is very excitable over creating a story, and was playing the part of narrator for me. She told everyone of my family, my mother and father who were farmers, my big brother Fredrick, who was engaged to an American, and my littlest brother, Stanley, who had just learned to read. Of course, the whole thing was a lie, but it was fun to listen to her weave her tale as I lay with my eyes closed, trying to appear to sleep.<p>

I eventually turned off my brain, and when I woke, the clock on the wall said it was fifteen minutes past one. There was a single candlelight from over on my mother and Anne's side of the room, and I watched them talking in hushed whispers and occasionally glancing over at me. I made sure they didn't see I was awake, it didn't seem my time to burst into their conversation.

I watched the candlelight dance across my bed, twisting shadows across the blanket, a moving picture before my eyes. I tried to imagine what the shadows were, until I saw a more shaped shadow, one of a person who was standing beside my bed. I wondered if it was a trick of the dark and the candle, until I heard the low rumble of a voice which nearly made me jump.

"She doesn't appear to be waking anytime soon, I will return tomorrow, if it is alright with you, Antoinette," said a very familiar voice from beside me. I watched slyly as my mother looked away from Anne to Erik with even features with a very small show of emotion.

"But of course. Meg spoke last night, saying she wanted to see you at least one last time before you set off. Surely she will wake soon enough, tomorrow she should be conscious. She doesn't want to be a burden to you, of course. She knows you must leave soon," My mother said softly. I heard Anne scoff in her bed and whisper something. I heard Erik mumble something back but didn't catch it.

"No, she won't go off with you, Erik. I will admit to being scared of her wanting to go off with you, but she told me that she has no intention, no offense intended," Her gaze was serious and her lips were set like glue.

"None taken," Erik said evenly. "Although you must know that staying in Paris will be dangerous for her, did you see the paper today?"

"Yes," my mother said darkly. "As soon as she is done with her healing and I am completely refreshed as well, I am planning on taking Meg to America, where I have a few relatives from Derrick's side of the family, may he rest in peace." Derrick Giry was my father who had died when I was young.

"That is wise. I should leave as soon as possible, then, to help throw them off of your tracks. The last thing you need is that bastard and his men following you to America," Erik said with a bit of bite in his voice. "_Au revoir_, Antoinette, Anne."

"W-wait," I said softly, trying to sit up in bed despite my sore body. I watched three pairs of eyes turn to me as I struggled to sit upright. "Wait. Don't leave yet. I've been sitting in this bed for heaven knows how long now, will you not be my company now?"

The room was silent for a moment. A minute later I saw Erik's dimly lit silhouette move, and slowly sit down in a chair next to my bed. The quiet was overwhelming, and I punctured it with my words. "Well, Monsieur Erik, I must begin by saying I'm sorry. For all the trouble I've caused. If I was a bit more careful, or if I wasn't so dim-witted, you might be safe from the gendarme."

"Meg, the apology is not yours to give away. In fact it is me who must give my deepest regrets. I got away from the prison with less than a scrape, and look at what's happened to you," He said, gesturing towards my leg. I bit my lip.

"Well, I assure you that it's honestly very painful. I won't lie and say I'm fine. But really, I don't regret my help to you. Now, to bide the time as I heal up properly, we should begin preparations for the rebuilding."

"Meg," My mother hissed in warning.

"No, do not scold her, Antoinette. Young Giry, you do realize how impossible of a goal you have? Even if the three of us worked together, the work of two unmarried women and a wanted villain wouldn't be given a second glance."

"I thought you believed in me," I frowned. "And I wish you wouldn't call me Young Giry. It makes me feel at least ten years younger." Anne snickered.

"I wouldn't mind feeling ten years younger," She commented with sarcasm. We all chose to ignore her.

"He's right. Think for a moment," My mother said. "It was a valiant move to rescue Erik, but it won't do us much good. It's nice to know he's alive, but his presence is putting us in danger." I thought I saw Erik's lip purse themselves.

I shrugged. "I guess so, but keep in mind that I am now wanted for helping him as well. Won't I be in as much danger as he is? Both the American police and the gendarme will be after the both of us."

"Do I have any say in this?" Erik piped up. I turned to where I thought his voice was coming from. It was silent throughout the room for a moment.

"Just let the man talk," Anne said. I sighed.

"Speak, then," I said quietly. It was silent again, and he stepped into the candlelight, his eggshell mask nearly glowing.

"The gendarme," he began. "Are not the biggest issue at hand. There is a bigger villain, another player in this game. This is not your childhood game of Cops and Robbers that some of you ballerinas were so fond of for a spell of time. Behind George Beaure and his men is a man who is both undoubtedly rich and hungry for my demise. Why else would Beaure be so intent on following me, so intent to have me hung from the gallows? There is only one person who could be behind it, a tycoon who would put any price on my head." Suddenly, it hit me.

"No, it can't be the Vicomte de Changy," I said, though I knew that he was the tycoon Erik referred to. Erik just nodded his head.

"That is exactly the person," he said with a bit of hateful spite. I could see in his eyes anger, but I also saw a bit of glimmering sadness, and defeat. I wondered if he felt betrayed, Christine was Raoul's to-be, if not already, wife. Christine was undoubtedly the reason why the Vicomte was going to such lengths to find Erik, but was she the one who wanted him dead? It was a mystery whether Christine had told Raoul to find him, or if he was doing it without her knowing, for her safety. "de Chagny had hired Beaure and some of his men to find me, and when they did, I was locked away in prison. I can just imagine de Changy yelling at Beaure and the others that at any cost, they must let the court find me guilty."

"But why involve Meg?" My mother nearly spat. "Why on earth was she such a target?"

"That is what I have been pondering, why exactly you were wrapped up in this situation," Erik said thoughtfully. "I can understand that he needed the information out of you, but how he knew you were trying to help me out is completely in the fog. How exactly did Beaure meet you, and what did he tell you?" I thought for a moment, remembering back to the day when I had first met Erik in the prison.

"It was the day I visited the prison," I recalled. "I beckoned for a cab, and it pulled up. When I got to the prison, it was Beaure who stepped down to speak to me, although he claimed his name was Alexander Drake. I paid my fare, and frankly, he began to flirt with me." I blushed as I spoke. "I made my way into the prison, and after our visit, I went down to a small bakery where I met up with one of my friends from the ballet. We shared a snack and I remember Dra- I mean, Beaure, appeared in the shop. He was talking with me for a few minutes until my friend screamed to me. She had spotted your body outside, mother." I turned to my mother. "You never told me, what on earth happened to you?"

All eyes were on my mother as her own eyes glazed over and she looked off into space. "All I remember were some men. They asked me something that I can't recall... no, wait! I remember. They asked me what Meg had to do with the Phantom. Of course, I had no clue what they were getting at, and one of them slapped me across the face. I can't remember anything from there on," My mother said softly. I blinked in surprise.

"They asked what I had to do with Erik?" I asked in amazement.

"As I suspected," Erik grumbled. "It was Beaure's men. Beaure went in to fraternize with you as a distraction while his men tried to squeeze information out of Antoinette." I blushed and Erik seemed to spit the word 'fraternize'. "When Antoinette didn't give the information they wanted for me, they beat her and left her bloodied in the street."

"That would make perfectly awful sense," My mother said. "Go on with your narrative, Meg."

"I ran outside and picked up your broken body and begged Beaure to drive me to the hospital. He drove us there quickly and for the next week, I... I didn't speak to him because I was so terrified for you, mother. I barely went out of the house, and then just to visit the hospital for you. But you were barely awake, and only a week and a half later did I remember you, Erik," I said shamefully not meeting his eyes at my actions.

"That is to be understandable," He said evenly and I went on.

"Once I remembered, I rushed to the prison, where Erik and I talked of his escape, and how I would meet him outside the back of The Leviathan. All went well until that night, when I was on my way to the restaurant early. His cab pulled out of nowhere, as if he had been watching to see if I came out. On second thought, that is most likely exactly what he did," I spoke with realization. "He pulled up to me and leaped down from his perch, where he begged me to go with him on a special errand or task, and although I tried resisting..." I trailed off, not wanting to speak my next words, fearing both the reaction by all and the fact that even thinking of what had happened left a poisonous taste in my mouth.

It was quiet for a moment in the room and I looked up to the man who was only half hidden by the shadows. His face looked hard as a brick wall except for his eyes which looked sharper and more murderous. His fists clenched and I heard the leather of his gloves cracking at the force of his grip. He must know what happened next, and I bit my lip. "Well, let's just say he manipulated me, and it was almost as if he had hypnotized me. He brought me into the carriage and brought me to the remains of the opera house.

"The opera house?" My mother interrupted. "Why on earth would he drag you to that miserable place?" I glanced up at her, remembering back to a day or so ago.

"Yes, and when we arrived, he pulled me out, asking me the way down to Erik's lair. By then, I had snapped out of whatever trance had been put on me, and I pulled out of his grip. He tried... convincing me again," I said slowly. "But I didn't let him, and that's when I knew that he was really George Beaure, because I remembered his voice from the prison. He also guessed who exactly I was, in terms of who I was associated with, that is. I believe you know the rest, _non_?"

"_Oui,_" Replied my mother, nodding her head. "I believe I understand it now. I do not blame you, Meg, but all of this is so beyond our control that I do not know what to do." She sighed and there was yet another silence throughout the room.

"How long am I to stay and heal here?" I asked quietly. Anne pursed her lips as I looked up to my mother. I could suddenly feel the piercing stare of Erik on the back of my head, and chose not to look to him for embarrassment. He must think me so helpless and unable to take care of myself. If only I had not been so damned stupid and led that man there, maybe I wouldn't be sitting with my leg crippled.

"They said that since you are no stranger to exercising your legs, what with all your dancing, you should be able to recover quicker than most people. Though it might still be a while. The nurse spoke with me today while you were sleeping once more. She says that your recovery will take anywhere between two months and five, if you are lucky," Said my mother after a spell of silence. I felt my eyes grow in their sockets as I sat myself up.

"Five months! Mother, w-we can't afford that! We could hardly afford to have you stuck here! We will go bankrupt with neither of us in work, and... and..." My head was pulsing and I felt sick to my stomach. A strong hand was placed on my shoulder and I tensed my muscles with both shock and fright, not expecting it. I looked, whipping my head up. There stood Erik, looking much like his former title of the Phantom, staring down at me.

"Quiet," He said softly, but enough to make me shut my mouth and listen to him. "The matter of money is no concern. I will see any financial matters are taken care of. What really matters is my concern of time, not price."

"Dear Lord, you won't steal the money, will you?" I said with a shiver, pulling the blankets closer to my body.

"Meg, I've heard that your dear friend here requested approximately twenty-thousand francs a month for numerous years. He can obviously cover any costs the hospital will send your way," Anne reminded me, and I supposed that he must be wealthy after all this time.

"My goodness, you must have a fortune by now! What in Heaven's name were you thinking of saving up for when you demanded the money at first?" Anne marveled, unashamedly looking to the man haunting my left shoulder. He felt his hand shake a bit on my shoulder as he chuckled.

"There was no price in my mind at the time, I simply chose a number at random. I had no clue that it was so outrageous a price, and how much could be bought with it, but nonetheless I stuck with twenty-thousand a month. The money is a blessing, for sure, but it is also a bit of a curse," He answered.

My mother, who had been silent for a small while, suddenly piped up before either Anne or I could question the curse of the outrageous number of francs. "Now wait a moment. I have got to thinking about this whole issue, and my question is why this Beaure man is so intent on his case. Surely he is not in it for the satisfaction, or fulfilling his duty. Any man in his right mind would not have been taking such drastic measures to find you and my daughter! The Vicomte must by now have nearly given up. He must know that you have no intention to be stuck in the rotting jail by now, has he not let Beaure go?"

"As I may have gone to continue, dear Antoinette, it is the fabulous amount of money he is after," Erik answered. I felt the cogs in my mind spin around.

"Of course..." I said as I thought. "That is why Beaure was so intent on getting down under the Opera. He wanted to find where you stashed the francs. Raoul was never aware of this, I assume, because they already had all the proof they needed. There was nothing they could find down there that could help, only the money. The man is greedily trying to catch you, and now me as well. When you wouldn't go and show him down, he went after me to show him."

"Exactly," Erik praised. "After he found the money, he would then run off away from the case, wealthy and unemployed from such a perplexing case." Everything was slowly clicking together, and I wasn't so cast in the dark on the topic.

"Dear me, this is worse than I could have ever thought!" Anne cried out quietly, as we were still trying to remain undiscovered in the early morning of the hospital. "The first person Beaure and his cronies will search for is you, dear," She regarded my mother, who's gaze was set in stone with thought.

"Yes, now I see the true genius in changing your name to Aminta, Meg. If Beaure or any one of his agents pays a visit to me, they should know that you are not related to me. It's a miracle that you look so much more like your father than I," My mother said.

"But if it _is_ Beaure, won't he recognize me?" I piped.

"I will ask our dear favorite nurse Penelope to filter out your visitors. If you should so kindly give a description of the man, then we should be able to keep him out until you are well enough to leave the hospital," Anne said as kind as I'd heard her speak in the short time we'd been acquainted. I nodded my head slowly.

"Yes, in the morning," I said almost to myself, with everything still buzzing in my head. Maybe I was over-thinking everything, because a massive migraine was building up and I held my head in my hands. Erik must have taken notice, although he had pulled his hand off my shoulder a short time before.

"Meg, is something wrong?" He asked. I lifted my head.

"No, I am fine, thank you. I just have a minuscule bit of a headache, that's all," I said with a small smile. But everyone overreacted and instantly hushed up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, we should all get back to sleep anyways," My mother whispered so quietly that it was barely audible. Anne nodded and Erik moved away from my bed, as if him being so close might have been the cause of such a headache.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Meg, I insist you get some rest," My mother said, leaning over and blowing the candle out in one quick huff.

"I'm not sleepy," I grumbled although rest was still very nice to think of in my state of recovery.

"Your head is ready to take action, but your body must heal, Meg," Erik said in the dark, his form only silhouetted by the soft moonlight barely. "I should be back to my hideout anyways, once it becomes light out, it's impossible to manage back to it, although morning seems so far away. _Au revior, _ladies." The dark shadow slunk over to the window and disappeared, a short burst of cold night air hitting my face before it explored the rest of the room. The sudden silence was deafening, and I wondered if I should not have mentioned even the notion of a migraine. But maybe the adults of the room were quite smart when it came to resting when healing, because soon I was drifting off, my lullaby the soft whispers from my mother and her friend and the rain which began hitting the window panes only a few minutes after Erik left.

That night, I had a dream that swirled colors together, like a collage of paint and paper, though it moved. There was laughter, and I found myself listening to a chorus of children that were skipping in a circle and singing songs. But they were not songs that children should know, songs from my early years at the opera. The dream then changed from the screams of glee and laughter from children to the laughing of adults, a grown man and woman. The picture of the dancing children gave way to whom I assumed to be an older me, but the man was shadowed and his face was invisible to me. The other me grinned upon seeing the shadow and ran into his arms, embracing the figure tightly while laughing. The voice of the man laughed, but I didn't recognize the man. The dream had me thoroughly confused, and that night I was restless, tossing and turning the whole night through.

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><p><strong><em>AN **_Am I the only one who finds Erik to act and talk strangely like Sherlock Holmes in this chapter? Now I've got the picture of Erik sitting with one leg across his knee, looking thoughtful while smoking a pipe. And then there's the lovely Watson-like Meg... I REALLY need to sort out my different Fan-bases... ;)_**_**


	9. Friends and Foes

_**Chapter Nine: Friends and Foes**_

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><p>Three weeks and five days. That's how long I had been in recovery, and for the record, I thought that my healing was going extremely well. The nurses and my mother had helped me to walk down the hall and back to my room so I didn't need any help to use the toilet any longer, which was such a blessing. Erik's visits were limited, and I wondered if he was just being careful as to not being caught. He still visited every week, at least once, often silent as a mouse. It made me sometimes wonder if he was so very unhappy here, that he should much rather be on the run at the moment instead of living in hiding. He never told us where he hid, either. Was it his old home, or another location?<p>

I decided it was best to always keep some kind of protection close to me, in case the unlikely event of Monsieur Beaure ever invading our room occurred. I had a small pocketknife always either on my dresser or in the pocket of my dress, just in case.

Although Anne wasn't much to help with my recovering, she was certainly full of useful gossip and news. She had brought in the paper from her loyal delivery boy she'd hired to bring the papers specifically to herself in the hospital. As I was eating my breakfast at the table that morning, the paperboy, John, who was about eleven years old, rushed in with the morning paper.

"Here you are, Madame Ellogram, the Wednesday paper," John said with a grin, handing Anne the paper and giving me an even bigger smile. "Morning, Mademoiselle Aminta!"

I smiled back and waved my fingers. "Good morning, John. How's the route?"

The boy shrugged. "Same, I guess. Except old Mindy Claybourne nearly hit me with her purse this morning, just because I wanted to pet her little dog. I best be off, say hi to Madame Giry for me!" He raced out the door with a tip of his dirty cap. I could see the prints of mud staining his pants from where the little dog had leaped up on him. I turned to Anne as the door closed.

"Anything of particular interest?" I asked, putting a small bit of bland oatmeal in my mouth from the plain dish. She slowly shook her head.

"Nothing, unless you count that the London-Paris telephone system is now opened to the general public. Do you have any folks in London?" She asked, turning the page.

"Not that I know of," I answered, turning my attention back to my oatmeal.

"What an anticlimactic April 1st," Grumbled Anne from the bed.

"Is it April already? Goodness, it feels like this year is going by too quickly," I said as a nurse walked in the door. I turned my attention to the woman I'd come to know as Nurse Penelope, who's hair was as light blond as my own, but her face was sprinkled with freckles and her eyes were set a bit further apart for us to look related. The woman was also nearly seven years older than myself, but far too kind for her own good, really.

"Mademoiselle Aminta? Madame Anne? Do you know where Madame Antoinette is? There's a visitor for her," Said Penelope kindly from the door. Anne and I looked at each other knowingly, and Penelope caught the look. She began laughing and said, "Yes, it's not a man to your description. In fact, it's a young lady, not any older than you."

I cocked my head. "There is a woman here to visit Antoinette? Did she give a name?" Penelope looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Yes, in fact. She said she was a Mademoiselle Noellë Meyer? Perhaps you know of her?" I felt my face drain with surprise.

"Noellë?" I asked. "Yes, yes, the Madame told me she was expecting a Noellë, isn't that right, Anne?" I asked, giving Anne a pointed look. Although her eyes flickered with disapproval, she answered yes and Penelope went off to send my dear old friend inside. My mother appeared in the room not a moment after she left.

"Now, Aminta, who is this Noellë you speak of? Your eyes are practically sparkling," Anne asked with a raised eyebrow. I smiled a bit and spoke.

"She was a dear friend from my days as a ballerina. Mother, you remember Noellë, _non_?" My mother widened her eyes with surprise as she slowly made her way over to my table. Although her recovery was still going fantastically, she was getting older and was still a bit injured.

"Noellë? The little girl with the small size and huge mouth?" She asked with a small, knowing smile.

"That would be her," I said softly as the door softly opened without a sound. I saw a cascade of red-blonde hair framing a round, curious face peep from behind the door, and the girl gasped when she saw me and my mother sitting at the table. The look of shock on her face was so great, that I realized that letting Noellë in might not have been the best idea. After all, she might leak information out to someone who was in association with Beaure or another. A small hand flew to her mouth and she stifled an outcry. Instead, she leaped inside, carefully shutting the door and whipping her head around to face the three of us.

"God wake me now, I must be dreaming," She mumbled. "Meg Giry, is that really you?" Her eyes were wide with both terror and fascination. I bit my lip and smiled a little as I set my spoon down in the tasteless oatmeal. I put my weight on the table through my arms as I tried to stand and grunted. My mother rushed to my aid, helping my still partially-aching muscles to rise up. I stood with her help, and walked slowly over to Noellë.

"Shh, hush up, Noellë. Yes, it is me, but around here I'm Aminta. Don't say a word about me around the nurses or others, lives may depend on it," I whispered in her ear, making sure that the door was completely shut. She nodded vigorously, and I turned to look at her face. What used to be shock was now fear, and I thought I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"A-Aminta?" She asked and I nodded. "Oh, Aminta! I thought you were dead! When I read in the newspapers that you were the accomplice of a criminal, and that you were Wanted... oh I could have screamed! I remember you talking of helping that man out, but what on earth happened? Why are you here? You should flee Paris as fast as you can!"

"Yes, yes, I know. It's a long story, Noellë," I said. "But I must swear you to secrecy right now. You must swear you won't tell a soul where we are, my life is in much danger right now." Noellë was still sobbing quietly, but she nodded her head. Maybe it was a slight exaggeration on my part, but it took theatrics to convince an actress. She threw her arms around me and cried into my shoulder. Over the mass of red-blonde hair, I saw Anne roll her eyes at the dramatic performance she was throwing.

After a minute, Noellë sniffed and dried her eyes daintily. "Yes, not a soul, of course," She said, her voice still wavering a bit. "Oh God, M- Aminta! I'm sorry, I just thought you were gone! I thought this Phantom kidnapped you, after you helped him. I wouldn't be surprised, to tell you the truth." She led me over to the table and sat me down, placing herself next to me. "Aminta tell me everything that happened from the time you left the bakery."

The next hour or so I told the narrative, with some point of view changes between the two other women. Anne introduced herself to Noellë and I noticed for the first time that they had very much in common with their personality. Even after we were finished, the two women were talking like they were old friends, or mother and daughter.

"For a fact, I'm glad that this Phantom isn't here right now. Something about him just makes my skin crawl." I rolled my eyes.

"He's honestly not all that bad," I said. "He has feelings, like everyone else."

"Oh yes, and we _all_ live under an Opera house talking to no one, kidnapping sopranos. Not to mention the hangings, and escaping from prison, of course," she said, the sarcasm rolling freely off her lips. "But all this nonsense with the man whom you call Beaure... you can't honestly believe that the Vicomte de Changy is behind it? He didn't seem the kind of man to me to be the leader of so despicable an operation. Surely you must have your facts wrong!"

"I'm not sure whether we are correct or not, but it's the best we've come up with in nearly a month," I commented, stirring my lukewarm tea from breakfast earlier in the morning.

"Wait, Aminta, you were always near Christine Daaë, like sister. Surely such a friendship hasn't died so quickly? You must be in contact with her. She _must _know about all of this, and tell you the truth about her husband."

I sighed. "Even if Christine still sent notes or letters to me, she might not know her husband's business. He could be working completely under her radar. Did you see when the two looked at each other? They would be lost in each other's eyes. Christine would be easy to distract from the harsh reality Raoul de Changy is setting up for me and the Phantom. And Raoul is so crazed by his love for Christine that he will do anything to protect his wife."

"I guess," Noellë shrugged. But we can't know for sure. For all we know, the Vicomte isn't even part of all this drama. This Beaure could be in this all for his own gain, might not even be employed. Wouldn't it make sense that Beaure is just after the gold and needs one of you two to get to it without being chopped in half by all the traps? He would be so intent to chase one of you two or both down for that, or possibly revenge, since you both escaped his grasp, making him look foolish."

"I suppose that could work too," I thought, and placed it in the back of my mind to mention to Erik tonight if I saw him. "But my treatment is going exceedingly well, and they say that I should be out in at least a week, if not sooner! By then we should be safe from the clutches of Beaure and his cronies."

Noellë frowned. "Of course, you're not staying in Paris, right?"

"We can go into hiding. I'm not sure we have the means to travel. Plus, the Opera. How could we rebuild-" I began, but Noellë interrupted.

"You're joking, right? The opera is nothing compared to you life. Restoring some broken monument is absolutely worthless if you get hunted down! You _can't _stay!" she pleaded.

"I'll kill myself if I die, alright?" I said with a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I'll be absolutely fine here." She looked doubtful. With nothing else I could say, I pulled her into my arms, hugging her close to me reassuringly. But before anyone could speak again, the door slammed open. I pulled myself out of the girl's arms and looked up to see and distraught Penelope with huge eyes.

"Madames! Mademoiselles! You have to get out of here quickly!" She whispered furiously. We all looked up incredulously at her uncharacteristic attitude.

"Penelope, what's the mater?" My mother asked, rising to her feet.

Penelope's eyes were huge with fear. "It's the man you described! He's here with four men, and asking to see you, Madame Giry! I told them you were unavailable, but they aren't taking a no for an answer and the-"

"YOU! Nurse! Who is in that room?" Came a roaring voice and Penelope squealed before slamming the door shut. My heart nearly stopped as I realized it must be Beaure's voice that was the yelling one. Noellë's face drained of all color, and my mother looked stunned.

"Oh, my God," Anne muttered. I snapped out of standing still and immediately began taking action. The muffled voices of Beaure and Penelope murmured outside while I started talking to the women inside the room.

"We need to take quick action. We need to get you out of here, mother. He knows you, or at least who you are. Noellë, I think you won't be recognized by him, even though he's seen you once in the bakery. Anne, he doesn't know you, so I imagine you're safe. Is there any exit from this room besides the door?" I whispered, glancing nervously at the door.

"The window," my mother whispered back. "We can go through the window. But are you well enough to make it through and hide until he's gone?"

"Yes, I'll be fine. If it's anyone I'm concerned for it's-" but I was interrupted by a shriek and I heard the door slam open. Inside stepped Monsieur George Beaure, with a bit more scraggly stubble than he had before. He grinned when he saw me, but not menacingly. Noellë had nearly fainted by then, and was holding onto something for support.

"Well, well well, Mademoiselle Meg Giry, we meet again," he said, closing the door softly and clapping his hands together. "I must admit that I'm glad to see you. Me and a few of my close friends have been on a lookout for you and your employer, and we've finally tracked you down."

"Monsieur Beaure, I can't say that it is very much of a pleasure seeing you again," I said between clenched teeth. "I'm afraid our last meeting was cut short by you so carelessly shooting me."

"Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that, but you must recognize the fact that you are a criminal by the law of France, and such actions must sometimes be taken," He said pleasantly, as if we were discussing something as commonplace as the weather outside. "Now, as I mentioned, you _are_ a criminal, and such criminals must be watched over by law. You are going to come with me willingly, or I'm going to have to force you to come with me."

"If it wasn't for you in the first place, she might never have been criminal by standards of law," growled Anne from behind me, sounding at least twenty years younger than she actually was. Beaure turned to her and I turned too.

"Madame, may I ask how you know Mademoiselle Meg?" he asked, pleasant as always.

"Anne, stay out of this," I hissed. Anne narrowed her eyes and leaned back, crossing her arms, defeated. She must have gotten the message that I wanted to fight this battle on my own.

"On the contrary, Madame, it is not me who has reverted your friend to her criminal ways. It is her dark, murderous friend. Treating her using law and enforcement will be good to her, bring back her sweet, girl-like charm," he went on, looking very proud of himself. I clenched my fists and bit my lip.

"I will not follow you, Monsieur. My question is if you would bring me to the jail at all. Would I be there, or snooping around below the Opera house looking for the Phantom's fortune?" I asked with a sneer. He turned to me with wide eyes, looking positively murderous for a moment.

"If you do not come willingly, I am going to have to force you. Come with me right now," he said as evenly as possible, reaching out for my hand. I looked at it with spite.

"No," I snapped. "I will not go with you at all."

"Then by force it is," he said with his smile reappearing. He reached into his pocket and drew out his small pistol again. I looked at it with fear, my leg pulsing where it had been shot three weeks ago. Noellë screamed.

"Put down the pistol," I heard a voice growl murderously from behind me. I spun around with surprise, gasping as I looked at the figure that was stepping in from the window. He looked out of place in the light of day, but still had the whole essence of dark and mysterious shrouding him.

Erik.


	10. Fight and Flight

_**Chapter Ten: Fight and Flight**_

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><p>"Put down the pistol," Erik repeated, stepping in from the windowsill. Noellë's face was deathly pale and she collapsed into a chair at the sight of him. My mother's eyes widened too, most likely from the shock of seeing Erik there in broad daylight. Monsieur Beaure was the only one with a smile on his face. He lowered the gun, his eyes sparkling.<p>

"Well, if it's not the Phantom of the Opera himself! What a pleasure seeing you here! I must say I did not expect to find you in such a setting, though," he said, talking as if they were old friends.

"Likewise," Erik growled. He took a few more steps inside the room and I stared at him. He was looking better, now that I saw him clearly for the first time in a while. All those nights he visited I was either asleep or it was too dark to clearly see a thing. He was looking a bit stouter then when I saw him in the prison cell, but not like Piangi had during my Opera years. His hair had been washed of all dirt and blood, and he was clean from the filth he was bathed in in prison. His cape was gone, most likely still in his hiding place, wherever it was. His eggshell colored mask glimmered in the light of day.

"Yes, this is indeed a grand reunion, but I'm afraid we must cut it short. You see, I have a job to do, and that is to take the both of you off to prison. It is dreadfully useless to attempt an escape, as I have one man positioned outside, and three waiting behind the door if you should somehow get past me. Now come, you two, the more civil, the less stressful it will be on everyone's part," Beaure said cheerfully.

Erik smirked. "I'm not sure you've noticed, but neither of us criminals wants to particularly rot in a prison."

"Of course. Well then, I'm sorry, but I'll have to send in my men to change your mind otherwise," Beaure replied with a shrug and opened the door up. "Daniels! Anderson! Malcolm, we have a few rouges here who need a little motivation to follow us to prison!" In stepped in three of the burliest men I'd ever seen, including the man from the night of Erik's escape. One of the men who had a beard smirked, pulling what could possibly be described as a club out from behind him and he fingered it loving like some kind of teddy bear.

"You need some convincing, huh?" Said another man, one with a mustache instead of beard. The other was clean shaven. "I got your convincing right here!" He held a wooden bat in his hand and bounded up to Erik, swinging the bat in his general direction. Noellë screamed again and ran over to Anne, who caught her in her arms like a mother. But Erik was too fast to be hit by something simple as a bat.

He bolted out of the way and the wooden bat cracked down on the empty, hard floor. The man growled and turned to face Erik, who had reappeared behind him. Smirking, Erik dodged another crack of the bat. The man roared with rage and this time swung the bat forward, then the way that Erik had dodged the bat. It hit him in the stomach and he made an "OOF!" sound before slamming into a wall. Noellë whimpered and I screamed.

My heart started accelerating and I heard a chuckle behind me. The man with the beard and the club was standing immediately behind me, and I turned straight into his chest. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around so that he had grabbed me from the back. He threw the club to Beaure, who caught it with both hands, and held me across the arms so I couldn't move. I struggled to escape from his grasp, but I was powerless.

"Well, little lady, looks like you're coming with us," the man chuckled, breathing into my ear. His breath smelled like raw meat and I nearly dry heaved from the stench. I tried biting his hand, but it tasted too terrible, and it looked like he didn't even notice it, I was so weak. It was pitiful. I watched Erik moan and rub his head, before opening his eyes and seeing me in the clutches of the strong, bearded man, trying to fight my way out of his arms. His eyes flamed and he pursed his lips.

"You can't do anything to us, Monsieur Phantom, we've got your little girlfriend in our possession. You wouldn't want us hurting her, would you?" the bearded man taunted and laughed. Erik looked enraged, and got to his feet. He stepped forward, but watched as the man squeezed his arms tighter around me. I squealed for a second unwillingly and Erik hesitated. He looked around as the man laughed and the big one with the bat came back after Erik. He suddenly reached up to the window and I heard a ripping sound. Erik whipped back around, elbowing the man in the gut. The man cringed and backed off for a moment, holding his side. In a flash, Erik was right behind the man who had me in his clutches. I heard the man begin to choke and suddenly the arms around me flashed up to his own neck. I leaped out of his grasp and looked up. To my horror, I saw the man gasping for breath as Erik was on top of a chair, crouching down as he strangled the man with a piece of curtain. That was what I heard ripping, the curtain being torn.

"Erik, don't!" I cried out, but it was too late. I watched as the man stopped breathing and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. I screamed as the towering man collapsed, and the room was silent for a moment. I heard my mother gasping and Anne whisper, "My God." I felt a tear come to my eye, because I was so scared at the minute. Erik was breathing heavily, and he sighed before hopping down from the chair, a murderous raging look still fresh in his eyes.

"Dammit, you've killed Malcolm!" Beaure spat. "Get him!" The two men had a scared look in their eye, but didn't disobey their master, and ran after Erik. Erik, the look of death still visible, rushed to the man who hadn't attacked yet and grabbed his head. He reached for the head of the other man and slammed the two together. I cringed as the two skulls met and made a thudding sound. While the two men were stunned, Erik strode quickly up to me as I looked to the body on the floor of the dead man.

"Meg, get out the window," he hissed. "We have to get out of here." I blinked, not comprehending his words for a moment.

"But-but... mother...?" I sputtered.

_"Run!"_ I heard Anne scream from her bed, and I looked over towards her. I saw my mother quickly scooting a table up to the window so I could easily climb out. She motioned to me quickly, and I raced over to her across the hard floor of the room. I heard Beaure yelling at the men to get me, and I looked over my shoulder to see the one with the mustache advancing upon me while the other one was locked in combat with Erik. Beaure looked like he was only there to give orders, and not to fight. My heart beat rapidly as my mother helped me up onto the table. I felt a few tears slip down my face and I looked down to my mother.

"Mother, what if I never see you again? You have to come out of this room right now, they'll do something awful to you!" I cried. My mother gave me a sad, forced smile and squeezed my hand in hers.

"Meg, it'll be alright, don't worry about me. Do as Erik says, he will be good at hiding you two until I can see you again," she said, and I saw her eyes tearing up.

"I love you_,_" I whispered and hopped out the window. I hit the ground with a small thud, and my leg hurt a bit more than it normally did. I sucked up air at the sudden pain, but ran to the tall oak tree the was just outside my mother's window. I hid behind it, in case any of the men climbed out of the window, looking for me. Of course, if they did come looking for me, it wouldn't be long before they found the young woman hiding behind the tree. I steadied my breathing, convincing myself that everything would be alright.

I heard a commotion behind me and turned, seeing Erik scrambling out the window. He spotted me and screamed, "Run north!" It took a moment for his words to sink in, and after that a second to figure out which direction north was. I began sprinting, despite my slightly lame leg, away from the hospital. "STOP AT THE FOREST'S EDGE!" I heard him yell behind me as I looked back over my shoulder and watched him reach back and kick someone's hand from grasping his leg.

I didn't make a response, but ran. I ran and ran and ran. It hurt so badly, my leg. It felt like I was tearing all sorts of muscles repeatedly. Later, I knew I would suffer the pain, but right now, the pain was numbed by my absolute terror at being caught. I passed the area of the hospital, and had to squeeze myself between some prickly roses and other various plants. "Damn," I hissed under my breath as my dress ripped, but I kept on sprinting. I passed a farmer's market and caught my breath near a stone building. I continued on running, passing some stone homes and apartments and a park until I reached a remote area, with a forest making a barrier in the land.

Stopping by the edge of the forest as Erik has told me, I looked quickly around to make sure no one, especially a policeman or any other kind of law enforcement was around. There was absolutely no one around in the remote area. I heaved a sigh of relief and sat on a rotting log to rest my sore legs. I rubbed my leg and began crying, just letting the tears flow free. There was really no one reason for the tears, I just needed to let them out of me, besides my throbbing leg of course. Everything had been so quick and complicated, and I closed my eyes. The physical pain of my leg, which now felt like it had been beaten with a club, combined with the sudden emotional pain forced upon me mixed together in a nasty concoction that made everything just hurt.

* * *

><p>How much time had passed was indefinite, and I still had my eyes closed. I was, however, certain that I had not fallen asleep. Maybe daydreaming, but not asleep. What woke me from the spell of silence was the soft sound of footsteps approaching. I wasn't sure if it was a gendarme or anyone in particular, but I dried my eyes anyways. I blinked some of the sting away, but didn't turn towards the sound of footsteps, which had suddenly stopped. I was pretty sure it was Erik by then. Anyone else would've said something.<p>

"So, what do we do now?" I said, my voice cracking a little from all my sobbing. There was a beat of silence, then a sigh.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"Do... do you think I'll ever see her again? My mother?" I asked quietly. Another beat of silence.

"The future is indefinite, but the sooner we can get off the tracks of the gendarme the better. We will go someplace where we can keep an eye on the papers. When there are no police warnings issued, we should return to Antoinette, your mother. Until then, I suppose I must watch over you," he said, sitting down on a moss covered rock and he rubbed his left arm. I imagined he must have been bruised there. I lifted my head up to look at him sitting across from me.

"You mean to say you have no idea where to even go? Did my mother and you not talk this out? Make no plans, just in case this scenario ever came into play?" I spat out, anger seeping out because of the building stress. He looked up at me angrily.

"It's no place of yours to blame, I just saved your life from those men! If it wasn't for me, you would be down below the Opera House, unwillingly helping that greedy bastard steal my savings, and then either getting raped or killed by him afterwords! Can't you be grateful for this once?" He snapped.

"If it wasn't for _me _in the first place, _you_ could be dead, hanging in the gallows because I didn't convince you to escape prison!" I argued back.

"Are you so naive that you can't even see things of the simplest thing in front of you?" Erik spat out. "You can't even fathom how much danger we were just in!" I hushed after he spoke and he seemed to calm down too.

"We have both... been through a lot this past year," I began slowly. "It has both affected us mentally and physically, and I think both of us know that arguing won't help. I mean, I've lost my home, most of my friends, my job, in ways my own mother, and a lifestyle that I have never had a change to. And you, well..." I knew this was a delicate subject to him, and I stopped before I ventured into waters too deep. "You've lost... a lot too."

He sighed and looked up to the sky. "No, don't be afraid. I am finished with her, with Christine. She has brought nothing but pain, and misery, and even deeper self-loathing then I have ever thought possible. She convinced me she was an angel, but she was nothing but a scheming little Pandora, ready to peek inside her box as soon as she was told not to," he spat venomously. "Love, I have discovered, is not for people like me. Like hideous monsters such as myself."

"You are not a monster," I rolled my eyes. "The only thing that makes you think that is because of the reactions of some people. Those are only opinions. You shouldn't base your own off of others." He looked at me half amused.

"Just some people?" He repeated, scoffing. "Try everyone who has seen a glimpse of my hideous, ugly face."

"Once you get used to it, I suppose it must'nt be so bad," I offered.

"Meg Giry, not even I have gotten used to this face, and I am at least ten years older than you," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"If you had half a mind to, I wouldn't care if you walked with your mask off," I suggested, a smirk lining my face. Maybe he would stop being such a Prima Donna about his looks if he would let his skin breathe. "That mask must get awfully tedious, am I right?"

Erik looked stunned, and even scared for a moment. "I... I suppose it does get annoying once in a while, but it is preferable to letting anyone see my face." He said slowly.

I rolled my eyes. "You are more pesky then the chorus girls on an opening night, fretting about their makeup and hair. Just take your mask off. I promise I won't react."

Erik looked unsure for a moment, but seemed to see the seriousness in my face. He looked at his hand as if they were some kind of venomous animal, but slowly they rose to his face, then slowly removed the eggshell hued mask. He looked a different direction for a moment. "You must promise me you won't scream or run."

I nearly laughed. "I've seen it before, there's no new surprise here for me," I smiled. "Just look at me, you'll feel better about yourself." He turned towards me, cringing. I must admit that although his bad side still sent a shiver down my spine, I was ready for the red, torn skin, the partial skull-like tightness on paper thin skin, the yellowing resemblance to an old book. The skin around his eye hung loosely like a bag, and yet I wasn't scared anymore. Was I used to it, finally? Or did I just not care anymore?

"See, it's not so bad, now is it?" I asked, folding my arms. He looked a little bashful for making such a big deal of it all, and stood up, facing the north. However, I'd nearly forgotten about my leg, and as soon as I stood, I cried out in pain and collapsed. Erik bounded to his feet at once, pestering me with his concerns. I waved him away and rubbed my leg. "I've underestimated how long it takes a leg to heal. It still hurts a ton if I put too much weight on it. The run couldn't have done any good, either."

"We'll take things slower, then," Erik mumbled. "You obviously can't run on that, I'm sorry I made you. Can you put any weight on it?" I tested it, little by little.

"A bit. I could walk lopsidedly, but..." I trailed off, shrugged. Erik walked a few feet off and picked up a large stick. He brushed the dirt and whatnot from it, then handed it to me.

"Will this make do for a walking stick?" he asked. I tried it, and smiled. It wasn't the best, but it was creative, and worked for the most part.

"It's wonderful."

"Great. We should get a move on, the gendarme could pop up any time if we stay here out near the open," he said, beginning to walk. Hurrying at a slow pace, we were soon on our way from anywhere but here.

* * *

><p>About fifteen minutes into walking, I looked to Erik, and realized that he had not replaced his mask. Another fifteen minutes gave me the lasting impression that he wasn't going to put it back on for a while.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN In truth, the closest thing to a forest that Paris, France has is the Forest of Fontainebleau, which is a whole 60 km away from Paris. But we can imagine that this Fontainebleau Forest is closer, and this is where we can picture Erik and Meg are right now! ;) Please excuse my poor research skills, I'm still trying to write this without once even visiting Europe, so my knowledge is a bit limited!**_


	11. Comic Relief

_**Chapter Eleven: Comic Relief**_

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><p>We had been walking for at least four hours, and I was beginning to grow both weary and restless all at the same time. On top of that, I felt grimy from all the trekking and the fact that I was still wearing no shoes. I had had no time to grab any or put any on in our flight from the hospital. "Can we stop for a moment? I'm sure that no one is following our trail at exactly this moment," I said, carefully sitting down, minding my left leg and not waiting for Erik's answer. I stretched my sore feet and yawned, cracking my spine. Erik sat down on the damp forest floor as well, leaning his back on one of the many huge boulders.<p>

"Are we even remotely close to civilization any more?" I ventured to ask. He looked around the forest floor, most likely searching for any signs of life.

"I have absolutely no clue," he said. "But we had better find somewhere soon. Somewhere we can lie low, and wait until we are not the most wanted criminals in all of Paris. If we stay out here, we could starve or be eaten."

"That sounds lovely," I sighed sarcastically. "I should especially like to find somewhere that has food, I'm starved." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached into a bag that I had only just noticed. "You brought a bag?" I asked, surprised. He looked amused for a moment.

"You don't honestly think that I'd run into the forest alone with nothing at all, did you? Did you think I spent all that time fighting those men off? I first ran to my hideout, packed the essential things needed to run. There is enough food to last the both of us about three days if we eat sparingly." He said, handing me a bit of hard bread. I graciously took it, trying to nibble the least I could to save it.

"What else did you bring?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Not much. An extra shirt for myself, a few clothing pieces for you, a-" he said, looking in the black bag, but I cut him off.

"For me? Where were you hiding, anyways?" I asked, curious.

"Take a guess," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Under the opera?"

"Where else?" he rolled his eyes. "Do you think I could go anywhere else without being noticed?"

"But how did you get clothing for me?" I asked.

"Do you forget it was _my _opera, Meg?" Erik smirked. "I have one plain-looking costume that should fit you that I had kept from one show. I also forgot, I snatched a pair of shoes for yourself, in case you wanted them." He took a pair of sturdy, men's boots out of the bag, but they were for smaller feet than most men. They would fit perfectly.

"Not exactly the ballet shoes I'm used to, but I can make do with them," I smiled, pulling them onto my feet which were already building more calluses than they had from dancing. "Did you grab your money, so even if they do make their way down to your lair, they won't steal the fortune?"

"Yes, it's packed safely away in a leather wallet. I am lucky I was paid in notes, and not in gold or coins. They would really weigh the bag down so much more," Erik said, closing the bag again. "I suppose we should be on our way again?" He stood up and stretched his arms as if he was just waking up. I followed suit.

"I suppose we should," I said back, finishing my last bite of the bread, and soon we were off again, the whole while looking for any signs of human life.

* * *

><p>I awoke to the sound of rustling leaves, and I blinked my eyes open slowly. Had they found us? The pitter-patter of my heart got a bit faster, and I scrambled up to my knees and looked around, searching for anything that might pose as a threat. My eyes scanned the area, darting from one side to the other, but to my surprise, I found only a small, reddish and grey-brown deer staring back at me. It stood there, unblinking and still as a statue. I stared back and almost began laughing with relief. It was only a deer, thank God. The deer stayed there for a second more before it dashed off. I got to my feet and looked around.<p>

After traveling until the sun went down, we had stopped at a particularly mossy area with some boulders surrounding it and set up camp. Erik had luckily brought some blankets along in his bag, and we had slept on those for the night. In our fortune, the night had been particularly warm, and I hadn't been too cold. We had eaten a bit a cheese and bread, and then fallen asleep very quickly. My only problem had been that I was still sweaty from all the walking, and considerably dirty, too.

I stood from my place on the blanket and picked it up. I shook it out from all the dirt and leaves, and folded it up quietly, setting it back down. Looking down to my left a few yards, I saw that Erik was on his blanket, still sleeping. He had surely deserved the rest, he had to haul the bag all the way, and had barely rested the whole way. He wouldn't wake for another hour or so, I supposed.

There was a sudden sound added to the silence, and I listened closely. A stream! I heard the sound of water running, which promised us drink. I looked down at Erik again. He would be out for a while, and wouldn't notice my absence. I could go look for the stream, and see if it was big enough to wash in. Taking my blanket up, I supposed I could use it as a towel, and I ventured out to where the noise could be.

I walked for about fives minutes or so before I saw the bank of the stream, and I grinned upon it's sight. The stream of water ran rapidly, but not so fast as it could be dangerous, and looked clear enough to bathe in. It was a sanctuary, really, so calm and peaceful. The river itself was wide, maybe 25 meters or so. It must have been deeper in the middle, because the color was a darker, richer blue. I slipped out of my boots that Erik had brought for me, and began to unbutton my dress when I heard a voice behind me chuckle. "I wouldn't take off much more than that if I were you."

I spun around, surprised, to see a smirking Erik leaning against a tree. He still didn't have his mask on, and his bare face looked almost natural. "I may be a mass murderer, but even the likes of me have morals." I began blushing furiously and hugged my blanket to myself.

"I-I didn't know you were awake," I said, willing my face to stop glowing such a furious red.

"All your shuffling around woke me up, and I was a bit curious to see where you were off to. You've made a nice discovery, but we had better be on our way, we have no time to wash up," he said, standing straight again.

"Oh, I don't want to walk anymore, Erik, can't we take a break?" I sighed. "At the very least to just cleanse ourselves?" He raised an eyebrow. "Think, we aren't going anywhere in particular, are we, now?"

"Still, we we can't afford to lose any time that could be spent searching for a village or remote town, can we?" he asked, taking a few steps closer and was now the same distance that I was from the river, right on it's bank. We were both so close that one step forward and we would both have wet feet. A wicked idea came over me and I grinned mischievously.

"You can't go on adventuring forward soaking wet, though, can you?" I asked with a grin. He turned towards me, and confused look on his face.

"What are you-?" he began, but I went over and shoved him backwards into the stream. The look of surprise on his face was so genuine that I couldn't help but burst out laughing as he hit the water. He landed on his rump with wide eyes and wet clothing. I doubled over, choking with laughter. His face twisted into a frown, but his eyes were smiling, I could tell.

"You don't think that I am the only one getting a bath right now, do you?" he said, standing and grabbing hold of my hands. I screamed and fell into the water stomach first, but caught myself on the soft bottom before my face hit the water. The water was shockingly cold, but I was used to it a moment after I hit the water. I laughed harder and promptly just sat in the stream.

"I should have seen that coming," I giggled. "But did you see this coming?" I splashed his face with a spray of water and he turned away so it hit the back of his head. He started to laugh, a big, infectious laugh that almost sounded musical. Given the said man, it wasn't surprising that even his laugh was musical. I didn't think I'd ever heard it before, and I doubted that many people actually had.

"Are you declaring war, _Mademoiselle_?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and devious grin. "Let the battle begin." He stood up, bent down, and sent a cascade of water headed towards me. I kept laughing and tried my best to dodge it. I stood up and waded out into the deeper, colder water.

"Come and catch me, Colonel!" I yelled, sending a tsunami of my own his way. He skillfully avoided it, and waded out deeper too, splashing me the whole way. I kept laughing and walking backwards into deeper water to avoid Erik, but suddenly the soil was gone and I fell. I squealed and suddenly I was underwater. I heard a voice dimly shout my name, and I swam back up. Erik was right next to me, and I spit water in his face, laughing. My whole body was soaked, but I didn't care.

"Drop off," I explained. "The dirt stops here, I assume." I waded out into the water with no bottom and swam around, a skill I had picked up when I was small. "Come on out, the water's fine!"

He swam out to the edge and jumped into the deep water. "I haven't had a swim in the longest time," he commented. I looked back and smiled.

"I should think so. You've been a little busy," I grinned.

"Yes, what with the prison, and the escaping, the worrying and the fighting, I've just been booked!" he said sarcastically.

"It's not like having been confined to a hospital bed was such a picnic either," I shot back.

"I liked it better when you were underwater and couldn't speak," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"As you like it," I shrugged and gasped for air before dunking my head down under the water. I opened my eyes underwater, looking around at how beautiful it was. The aquamarine color of the water with the sunlight making it sparkle, and the glimmering rocks at the bottom covered in all shades of green or brown. I went back up for air, hitting the surface again. I pulled my wet hair back from my face and blinked the water away. Erik was leisurely floating some small distance away, and I swam slowly over. This new, more mellow Erik was much different from the previous Phantom character. When I looked at him, I didn't see a murderer, or a man that had been shunned by the world for nearly his whole life. I merely saw a man who was relaxing on a holiday. It almost made me forget we were running for our lives.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked, smiling. He looked up to me, a slight grin across his face.

"As a matter of fact, I am," he answered, then popped his head underwater, the rest of his body following. I didn't see him for a moment, and began looking in all directions, but didn't see Erik.

"Erik?" I asked, looking around and turning in the water so it made a swishing noise. He was swimming over to the other side of the rushing river, and climbed up onto the shore. "What are you doing?" I yelled to him. He looked over to me.

"Just watch!" He yelled back, climbing up onto a small peak that reached over the river by a few meters. He stood there for a second, looking over the peak. I couldn't help but stare at him. Wet droplets dipped off his perfect sculpted body. In fact, his whole body was perfect, save the hideously deformed side. His wet clothing clung to his body, and his dark, black hair was messy from the water. I couldn't help wanting him to take off his wet shirt, just because it might be more comfortable for him, of course. No other reasons. He walked the other direction, like he was leaving and I lost sight of him. I considered yelling for him, but he suddenly appeared, running off of the peak and flailing his arms around before splashing into the water just a yard or two away.

I closed one eyes and held my hands up to shield me from the tsunami he sent my way. Laughing, I swam over to the place that he had landed. Erik resurfaced and laughed his musical laugh again that made me feel warm inside.

"Isn't this better than traveling across this dreary forest?" I asked him with a triumphant smirk. He looked to me with a genuine smile across his imperfect face.

"Yes, I think this is much better."


	12. Children

_**Chapter Twelve: Children**_

* * *

><p>"Wait, stop, I hear something," I said, stopping dead in my tracks. Erik, straight ahead of me turned around with a raised eyebrow. We had both dried off from our little swimming adventure that morning, and had long since begun walking again. Once back from the river, shivering, we had changed into dry clothing (behind a bush of course). The costume he had grabbed for me was a light, sky blue color and had a cottony texture to it. The sleeves went almost all the way down my arm, leaving maybe five centimeters of bare skin of my small arm. The skirt was just below my knees, and was still modest. Not the most glamorous dress I'd ever worn, but it was still practical and I could move easily in it.<p>

Erik's clothing looked nearly exactly the same as it always did, consisting of a white button down shirt, pressed black pants, but instead of a black overcoat that he usually wore, he had a brown, earthy vest that he must've snatched from the costume department. Although since we had come back from the river, he'd once again taken to wearing his eggshell mask. Personally, I had come to the point where I didn't care whether or not he had his mask on.

I listened, swearing I heard laughing for a split second. "I-I must be going crazy. I thought I heard a child," I said, laughing weakly to myself. Erik smirked.

"There must not be any shred of sanity between the both of us, then, I suppose," he teased and I rolled my eyes.

"For being my elder, you aren't exactly the most mature, now are you?" I shot back with a smile. "How old are you, anyways? You can't be much older than thirty, can you?"

Erik smile went away. "I've never given much thought to my age, I don't know my own birthday, so I have no recorded age, I'm afraid." We kept walking along, and I felt a shred of sympathy for the man.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, that must be a bit of a burden," I commented. "Well, why don't we declare a birthday for yourself? We could make it today, except I'm not exactly sure the date. The fifth, maybe? Then it's settled. Your birthday should be April 5th. And why don't we just say your age is thirty-two? Yes, that sounds about right. Speaking of birthdays, ages, and such, I think that mine might be coming up soon." I did the math in my head. "Yes, just a few weeks. I'll be eighteen on the twentieth of this month."

"Eighteen," he raised his eyebrows. "You look much older than your age suggests. You'll be an adult." I looked thoughtful.

"I suppose so, I just wish that-" I began, but he held his hand up, a sign to stop speaking. I shut my mouth, and curiously raised an eyebrow. "What are you-?"

"Sh, I heard it too. The laughter," he said in all seriousness and we were silent for a minute. The only sound in the forest was the scrambling of small animals in the bushes and the songs of birds in the trees sounded. Then suddenly, out of the blue, children's laughter. There were a few shrieks of joy, and yelling. I looked around incredulously, wondering where it could be coming from. Why were there children in an abandoned and remote forest?

"Where is it-?" I started, but he turned and put a finger to his lips, a sign to hush. He scanned the area, then pointed up towards a hill to the east of us. There were four of them, children, running and chasing each other. And they were headed our way. "We have to hide, if they see us, they might recognize us from the papers," I hissed, grabbing Erik's arm and hiding us behind a huge boulder. I crouched down, but positioned myself so I could still see the children. I observed them each closely.

There were four, three boys and one girl. They all looked different, so they were obviously not related. One of the boys, the tallest of them all, wore a pageboy cap, and had hair down to his shoulders, dark brown and straight. He looked in his late childhood, ten or eleven at most. His clothing was dirty, with worn denim pants and a pale yellow shirt. He had a rough, teasing look on his face as he laughed and ran.

A second boy was right behind him, following him like a shadow. He was wearing a pointed cap with raven colored hair that curled up in locks around his cap. His skin was tanned, but not dark enough to be black. He looked more Spanish than anything. His ragged brown shirt hung over his body, looking a size or two too big for him. His pants weren't denim like the older boy, but a more cloth-like material that matched the brown color of his shirt. He looked around the ages of seven and nine.

The third boy and one girl were walking hand in hand, running and giggling. They looked much like Christine and Raoul, surprisingly, although much, much younger. They looked only about seven or eight each, but looked as much a couple as anyone did. The boy had a pageboy cap like the eldest, but had short curly, blond hair. He wore too-big overalls over a light green button up shirt, and wasn't wearing any shoes. The little girl was wearing a white frock that was full of many, many stains. It almost looked like a pattern of colors over a white surface, but I knew the stains were unintentional. She had short, boyish hair, however, much unlike Christine's. Her hair was dark brown like hers was, but her skin was more tan and sun-kissed. Not like the second boy, but a natural tan that suggested she was in the sun much.

They all laughed and ran down the hill, not twenty meters from us. "I'm tired of this game, let's play something else," said the oldest looking one, puffing his chest out to make him look big and proud.

"I'm done with this too," said the second boy, with a Spanish accent, confirming my suspicion of his ethnicity. "Sarina, what do you think?" he asked, turning to the girl, whom I supposed her name was Sarina. She looked to the boy who was holding her hand and smiled.

"I don't know, I think this game is pretty fun. Tag is my favorite," she said, looking back to the Spanish boy.

"If Sarina wants to play tag, I think we should play tag," said the blond boy, making the little girl blush. The Spanish boy crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, and the one with the dark brown hair pretended to gag.

"Fine, you two lovebirds go play tag or whatever. Antonio and I are going to go play something else. What do ya' say, Antonio? Let's ditch Sarina and Claude," said the oldest.

"Well, how about hide and seek?" Sarina suggested, sitting down on one of the various boulders with the blond boy, Claude, following suit. "That's a fun game." The oldest crossed his arms. Antonio's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, hide and seek! Kristen taught me that when I was just a _niño_," he exclaimed. "C'mon, Tony, let's play that!"

"Your still a '_niño'_, Antoinio. And that game is for losers," snapped the older boy, Tony, who was obviously their ringleader. Sarina frowned, her face kiddish and pouty.

"Oh, Tony, you're never any fun. Listen to Antonio. We outnumber you three to one, anyways," she said with a smug smile.

Tony looked at his friends, then sighed dramatically. "Fine. Hide and seek it is. But it's still a stupid game," he grumbled. Sarina's face brightened.

"Tony's it!" she squealed and jumped up from the boulder. Her and Claude ran off laughing, still hand in hand as Tony started yelling protests after them. They disappeared and Tony kicked a rock, growling. Antonio shrugged.

"It's alright, _amigo_, they're just kids. Let them have their fun," Antonio shrugged. Tony frowned down at him.

"Shut up, Antonio. They're only a little younger than both of us. Now go hide before I give you a reason to hide," he threatened and Antonio shrugged, running towards the spot where we were hidden. I froze where I was, not knowing what to do. He was only a child after all, and couldn't hurt either of us. But why were children just out on there own out here? They surely must be part of something bigger, somewhere that had adults that could possibly pose as a threat to us. Maybe he wouldn't notice us.

He was just about to turn around and see us, when suddenly a new voice yelled across the wooded area. "ANTONIO! It's time for supper, _mi hermano_!" I looked up, and running down the hill was another girl. She looked much older than all the children, in her teens, I supposed. Her body was tan like Antonio's, and her hair was the same dark color, suggesting that she could be a relative of his. Her voice also sounded of Spanish origin, and her hair was pinned back into braids. The girl's dress was a light purple, lavender almost. It fluttered all around her as she ran down the hill, and made her look almost angelic in the last rays of light from the setting sun.

Antonio grumbled. "Kristen, we were just about to play hide and seek, and Sarina and Claude just ran off. Now we have to find them right now? That's no fun," he complained. Kristen smiled.

"I know, I'm no fun," she said teasingly. "We're having stew, and I know Claude wouldn't want to miss that." She started laughing. "CLAUDE! SARINA! DINNER TIME!" She yelled across the area. There was some rustling, and I saw two bodies drop from a tree, and then watched the two children run up, still miraculously holding hands. They must've been surgically attached to the hand.

"Did you say we're having stew?" Claude asked excitedly. Kristen laughed again.

"Claude, it's a miracle you stay skinny as you are, with all the food that you eat," she teased. Sarina giggled.

"I'm trying to keep him on a diet," she giggled, dirt smearing her face. Kristen rolled her eyes.

"What would we ever do without you?" she sighed and rounded up the children. They were about to go back up the hill, but suddenly the teenager looked over at the rock, cocking her head. "Hello? Who are you?" she questioned loudly and began walking over to our rock. My heart stopped.

"Kristen? What's wrong?" asked Antonio.

"There's some people here, two of them. Hello? Would you please come out? There's nothing to be afraid of," she said, approaching us and turning around the rock. She spotted us and smiled. "Hello, there. May I ask what you two people are doing back behind this rock?"

Before I could react or ask how on earth this girl had found us, being silent and hidden as we were, Erik stood up and spoke. "We are two travelers, weary and lost. You wouldn't happen to know where in the world we are? We had almost given up hope on any civilization nearby. But surely there must be a village or two?" He spoke confidently, and I was stunned by his improvisational skills. I blinked with surprise.

"Oh, dear! You two are lost? Well, I'm afraid that there isn't much civilization around these parts of France, where are you two headed? Or running from, maybe?" she asked curiously.

"Strasbourg," he answered in a heartbeat. "We have been trying to get there at least two days, now, and I'm afraid we took a wrong turn."

"How dreadful! And may I ask why the mask? You look like you are lost from a circus or theatre production," the girl said with a small smile.

"Ah, the mask. I'm afraid I've taken a rather nasty spill, and my face is still in the stages of healing. I hope it won't be any bother to you," he spoke with the true art of an actor.

"I see, Monsieur..." she trailed off.

"Erik. Erik Graye. This is Mademoiselle Meg de Barbazac," he spoke. I just sat there, dumbfounded by how easily the words came to him, that even I was almost convinced. The girl nodded.

"Of course, _Señor _Erik. Would you both care to join us for supper? We have a band of gypsy folk just less than a mile from here, and it would be a delight to have you," she said in a new, kinder tone. I looked up to the strong man and saw some of his face muscles tense at the mention of gypsies. I knew that for some reason, he had a strong feeling of animosity towards gypsies.

"We'd be delighted," I said, standing up before Erik could refuse. We needed a place to stay, and he should get over his silly fear of them. I couldn't tell if his face was straight or if he had another mask to shade his actual expression.

"Fantastic! Follow me. C'mon, kids, _vaminos_!" she began walking up the hill, the kids behind her, and us following quickly behind.


	13. The Paulsons

_**Chapter 13: The Paulsons**_

* * *

><p>We had trekked only ten minutes or so when laughter and shouting was heard. Something smelled good in the air. There was a tower of smoke cascading up, and swirling about in the slight afternoon breeze. I pulled my hair behind my ears and out of my eyes to clearly see the dark colors of the tents, a cornucopia of blacks and earthy browns. Some were dyed dark reds or purples, and some were white with green and brown stains, no doubt from traveling. The girl in front, Kristy, I believed, took the boy, Antonio, by the hand as we entered the gypsy camp.<p>

I gazed around curiously. The men and women were all smiling, or laughing. They all interacted, not a single person wasn't chatting with another unless they were doing some kind of action. Some carried buckets of sloshing water, other were running in and out of tents in a frenzy. Still others were dancing around with various instruments. Some young men carried around guitar-like instruments and were spinning around, playing and calling out to each other. Each was dressed in colorful, but dirty clothing. The women all wore bright reds, pinks, and greens, dyed in either bold colors or patterns like swirls, flowers, and dots. Many wore scarves or headbands on their heads, and had darker colored hair. The young girls all wore less vibrant of colors, whites, light blues, and creams. The men's dress all looked the same with black pants and vests over them, not unlike the brown one that Erik wore.

"Okay, Claude, Sarina, go wash up for supper and we'll see you there. Same with you, Tony, off you go," the girl shooed the children off except for the Spanish one who I assumed was her brother. The boy with the long hair, Tony, had been staring at me the whole time, as if I was some kind of alien. He just nodded towards the girl with his gaze still fixed upon me. He backed away a few steps, then turned and ran off towards a bright orange tent. The two children who were still attached at the hand ran off together towards a dark blue tent, and disappeared into the opening. "Now, _Señor_ Erik,_ Señorita_ Meg, if you would please follow us." I looked at the passersby as we continued on.

They all glanced at us, the passing foreigners led by these two children into their camp. I wondered if they would accept us, if even one of them had seen us on a poster or in a newspaper, we could be recognised and be sent back into Paris. I didn't even know if we had ever left Paris, in fact. The whole time we walked, Erik spoke not a word, whether from distrust to the gypsies, or a small bit of loathing to me for dragging the two of us here. Either way, he stayed silent, and wouldn't even give me the honors of a glance. I wondered why he was so apposed to the gypsies. Their lifestyle? Appearance? Religion? In fact, I barely knew what the gypsies lifestyles and religion generally were, I'd never bothered to discover such a fact. Maybe it wasn't such a sure idea to have willingly come with them in a heartbeat. But we_ were_ lost, and I was hungry. The hard bread and other various foods weren't cutting it, and the mouthwatering scent of supper in the air made my stomach growl.

The teenage girl hopped over to a green tent. Now up close, I could see the tent was thrown together with not one cloth, but with many as a makeshift home. I recalled hearing once that gypsies were nomadic, and that would suggest the makeshift tent. She lifted the entrance flap, bending down to enter. The boy ran inside, but both of us hesitated outside the door. The girl, Kristen, as I now recalled, looked up and motioned to us. "Come on, then. Let's not be shy." Erik walked in first, and I followed closely behind him.

Inside the tent were four mats, each woven with straw and a small blanket covering each. There was a few pots and pans with sacks full of beans littering the east corner of the area. Towards the west corner, however, there were multiple trunks, brass, by the look of them. They looked a bit tarnished and worn, most likely weary from travel. I wondered how old they were, and what was held in them.

Kristen walked over to a wooden wash-bin in the corner next to the beans and pans, pouring some water from a pitcher over her brother's hands to clean them. She did the same for herself, washing one hand at a time. Antonio finished drying his hands with a small rag and handed it over to his sister, who dried her own. When finished, she looked up at the two with curious eyes. "Really, you must'nt be so hesitant. We're not savages, you know," she said teasingly. "At least we can speak French, that at least should be a comfort."

Antonio smirked. "_Espléndido, invitar a dos perfectos desconocimos en nuestro campamento y les ofrecen la cena. ¿Qué podría salir mal?_" He spoke in another language with a roll of his eyes. Kristen shot him a warning glance.

"_Cállate, papá quiere que yo sea lo más acogedora posible. Ahora actuar como si fueras tipo, por una vez,_" she hissed back, then grinned up at us. "Well, most of the time we speak French, but our native Spanish sometimes comes out. Please, wash up for supper. We're having stew tonight. It's not the fanciest, but we'd be glad to share."

"Thank you, that is very kind," I said, walking over and washing my hands with the bowl and jug. Erik stayed a silent, looming giant, taking the gloves off his hands and washing them, then replacing the gloves. I suspected he only washed because either the teenage girl would make him. There was suddenly a pair of voices for outside of the tent, a male and female one. The female laughed, then the entrance to the tent was opened, and in stepped two people, the woman then man.

The women had a surprised expression on her face when she laid eyes on us. She had dark, but straight hair, unlike Kristen and Antonio. Her skin was dark as theirs, and her eyes were a very, very deep chocolate. She had a red scarf tying her raven hair back, and a matching red sweeping dress with pink floral print spread across it. The man was wearing the typical black pants, and a brown vest with fringes hanging off and no shirt underneath. He wore a sort of mature version of a pageboy cap, and it was dyed red to match his wife's dress and scarf. He had a kind look on his face, and his dark ginger hair curled up from his pageboy cap, much like Antonio's did. He had a bit of a small beard in the same ginger shade. He grinned when he spotted us, unlike the woman, who just had a surprised look painted on her face.

"Well, well, well! Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" he said jubilantly, with a normal French accent compared to the Spanish one of Kristen and Antonio and walked over to where Erik and I were standing. He was tall, taller than Erik, even, but just by a very small bit.

"Meg, Monsieur. And this is my... friend, Monsieur Erik," I said, hesitating on the word 'friend'. I wasn't really sure if we were friends, but it was what seemed most likely without saying we were on the run from the law or husband and wife.

"Haven't you two any last names? You seem like proper, civilized folk," he said with a teasing glimmer in his eyes. My mind went blank. What were the last names? I couldn't remember.

"Uh..."

"Graye," Erik spoke for the first time in a while. "And her's is de Barbazac. We are both trying to get to Strasbourg, but got lost in the woods on our way."

"And where do you two come from, Monsieur Graye?"

"Paris."

"Splendid! I've gone there a few times myself, although I was born and raised in lower London myself. I'm sure you have many stories to share, Monsieur Graye. And you too, Mademoiselle de Barbazac! Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Zachary Paulson, and this is my wife, Estela." he hugged the woman who had slowly approached us, with more caution and a slightly untrusting look in her eyes. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I assume you've already met my son, Antonio, and my daughter, Kristen?"

I looked over to the girl and boy who were still standing beside the wash-bin. The girl smiled sweetly and had her hands held politely in front of her. "Not formally yet, we havn't been given enough time. What with supper coming right up, we were just getting ready to set off."

"Ah, yes, supper. Every Saturday night, our camp gathers together to share stories and eat together. You see, we're nomadic gypsies, but also preforming gypsies. When we find a village or city, we usually have some sort of entertainment. Most all of us can do something, and hopefully you can experience that for yourselves tonight." The man grabbed a few things that were scattered around the house, then bent over to one of the trunks, and from behind it grabbed a violin case.

I saw Erik's eyebrows raise as the black case was placed on the ground. "You play?" He asked, somewhat surprised.

The man's eyes sparkled. "I've been playing the fiddle for over twenty years, about seven years of lessons. Are you a player yourself?"

"A bit of a violinist, yes," he said humbly. I hadn't known he played the violin, and raised an eyebrow myself. I supposed with nothing better to do beneath an Opera house, playing the violin might be an interesting pastime.

"How wonderful! We'll have to choose a piece for a duet someday," Mr. Paulson said with his still-sparkling eyes.

"Oh, we weren't planning on stay so long. Just one night, and then we won't trouble you again," Erik said as I felt a bit irritated. I was normally a polite young woman, refusing hospitality if I could, but it was either this or wandering around in the wooded area without knowing when the next town or meal would come. The sparkle in Mr. Paulsons's eyes faded suddenly and his grin dropped.

"Must you leave so soon?" he asked with sad eyes. "I suppose that you need to get places, _non?_ If you do change your mind, however, please, our home is yours!"

"That's very kind, Mr. Paulson, we'll be sure to reconsider," I jumped in before Erik could respond. Mr. Paulson smiled at me and Erik glared. I felt his stare on the side of my head, burning a hole in my mind, but tried to ignore it.

"Well, we'd best be on our way out, come on now!" Mr. Paulson glared at his son who was whispering something in the foreign language I had heard before to his sister. "Antonio, there's no talking to your sister that way! Move out, people!"

We made our way out of the tent, and I stood by the mother, while Mr. Paulson herded the rest of the people out. "I would like to thank you guys personally for letting the two of us stay with you for the night," I said with a smile as kindly as I could. I wanted to let them know that I appreciated it very much. The woman gave me a small smile that almost looked shy.

"You're welcome. Zachary is a bit... welcoming. I'm sorry if he seems a bit intimidating at first. But... you learn to love him after some time," she smiled. "I'm extremely interested in your story, I hope you can tell us tonight or soon."

"Of course," I said. "It would be my delight." My heart started to flutter, elated that they accepted us so easily. The woman walked back over to her husband, sliding her arm in his as we began walking. I ducked to the end of our line, walking next to Erik.

"Isn't this wonderful?" I whispered. "They're very hospitable, and beyond kind! Already, this family has offered their home and food, their very lifestyle to us! We could stay here, start a new life!" His gaze looked distant, however.

"Something seems wrong. I don't feel... settled here. You can stay, but I'm setting off tomorrow evening," he mumbled in a low voice.

"What?" I hissed. "I know you have a silly fear of gypsies, for heaven knows why, but you have to get over it. This place is perfect! Think of my mother! She would've wanted you to protect me, for us to stick together," I argued.

His face turned a bit red and I saw his lip twitch. "We'll talk later, and it's not just a 'Silly Fear', it's much more," he said, taking longer strides ahead.

"Erik," I called out, irritated. When he didn't turn, I just sighed and kept on walking.

"Someone looks a little moody today," came a voice, I turned my head, and Kristen had slowed down for me. I gave her a knowing smile.

"Yes, Monsieur Erik can have his moments. He can be a Prima Donna at times," I said.

"Same with my little brother. He irritates the living hell out of me often, but he's not that bad. So, tell me, Mademoiselle Meg, all about yourself. I'm a curious girl," she said. I was quiet for a moment, trying to think up a story, wondering if I should confirm with Erik a story upon which we could agree. The girl smirked. "Shy? Well, that's okay, I'll start.

"My name is Kristen Paulson, I'm fifteen and a half years old, and when I'm old enough to marry and be out in the world without my parents, I'm going to train to become a gymnast. My goal is to represent France in the Olympics. My favorite colors are grass green and the dark black midnight sky speckled with starlight. The best kind of food are enchiladas that my mamá makes. My favorite season is summer, and I love it when my papá plays his fiddle. There, now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Alright... my name is Marguerite Gi-, de Barbazac, I'm nearly eighteen years old, and for more than half of my life I've been a dancer. My mother used to teach ballet. I often dreamed of being the Prima Ballerina, but now I can see how unrealistic that dream was. My favorite food is crêpes that my mother used to make for me. My favorite season is most likely the fall, because of all the colors and quicker ending days, everyone waiting in anticipation for _Noël_ in the winter."

"A dancer! Ballet, like your mamá taught?"

"Yes, ballet, mostly. I preformed in a few Operas, chorus roles, of course."

"Oh, mamá would be so jealous! She was taught how to dance by her grandmother at a very young age, tango is her dance. It's traditional to Spain, and mamá is the best there is at it. Of course, she's also wanted to always be an astronomer, ever since she was just a _niña. _But that's hardly the job of a woman_. _Her mother danced, and she was taught to dance as well. I can dance a bit, but acrobatics are more of my own interest. My _novio _can play the guitar, and he can't dance, but I love him anyways."

"_Novio_?" I asked, confused. She blushed.

"My boyfriend," she smiled. In fact, there he is! Didier!" she called out, waving to a good looking teenage boy. He had wavy black hair like hers, but he had many freckles and bright green eyes, as well as lighter skin, more like my own. He was plucking a guitar as he walked along, but when Kristen called out to him, he turned, eye sparkling and a smile spreading across his face.

"Kristen_, mon amour!" _the boy called out, and Kristen ran up to him. He put the guitar down on the ground and caught the spirited girl in his arms. She jumped up and clung to him while laughing. He spun her around in a circle, then set her back down. Much to my surprise, the two leaned together and kissed for a few moments. I blushed at such a private display in such a public area. They broke off and Kristen's eyes were gleaming. The boy picked his instrument off the ground and Kristen slipped her hand into his free one. The two walked over and I felt odd, most likely the eldest of both, yet they both seemed more mature than I.

"Didier, this is Señorita Meg. Meg, this is Señor Didier," Kristen introduced us. The boy smiled good-naturedly and pulling it away from Kristen, stuck out his hand. I placed mine in his and he shook it politely.

"_Bonjour, Mademoiselle,_" he said with a smile. "A pleasure to meet a friend of Kristen's."

"Likewise," I said back, his smile infectious.

"Come, you two, introductions can wait until later. There's a bowl of rabbit stew calling my name!" Kristen proclaimed, taking Didier by the hand again and continued on walking. I was surprised by their public show of affection, and it puzzled me how such a young girl could be so brave and romantic.

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><p><strong><em>Yes, I know, this chapter was boring. A filler, really. But excitement is to come! Give it a chapter or two! But, hey! New characters entering the story, at least THAT'S exciting. I'm not too humble to beg for reviews! So please! Rabbit stew for anyone who reviews! :)<em>**

**_TRANSLATIONS:_**

**_Spanish-_**

**_Espléndido, invitar a dos perfectos desconocimos en nuestro campamento y les ofrecen la cena. ¿Qué podría salir mal?-_ Splendid, invite two strangers in our camp and offer them dinner. What could go wrong?**

**_Cállate, papá quiere que yo sea lo más acogedora posible. Ahora actuar como si fueras tipo, por una vez- _Shut up, Father wants me to be as pleasant as possible. Now act like you're kind, for once.**

**_French-_**

**_Mon amour-_ my love**

**_Best Wishes, Aktress._**


	14. Getting to Know You

_**Chapter 14: Getting to Know You**_

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><p>We kept walking until we got to an area filled with people, one hundred or two hundred at least. The were multiple fires, each with a pitch black pot boiling over the top of them. I supposed that's where the stew was kept. Some people were in lines to get the food, and others were sitting on the lawn of green grass eating out of clay bowls. There were a few musicians to the left of the field, and some children running around, or picking flowers. I spotted the little couple of lovebirds, Claude and the little girl who's name I'd forgotten, running around with the other kids, actually separated for the first time, as far as I knew. I wondered why everyone was so immune to the shocking display of romance throughout all these children.<p>

I looked around for Kristen's family, and spotted the father waving me over from one line. I walked over, leaving Kristen and Didier to a more private atmosphere. He smiled and looked at his daughter as I arrived next to the family. "I do dearly hope he proposes to her soon," he sighed. I was shocked completely. Not only did the father accept the two, he wanted them to be wed!

"How old is she?" I asked incredulously.

"Fifteen, and as much of a young woman as there ever was," he smiled proudly. "They've been courting for two or three years now. I suspect it won't be long, now."

"Courting at twelve? That seems a bit outrageous, doesn't it?" I said, looking at the girl. I supposed it wasn't _too _outrageous to get married around fifteen or sixteen, but it seemed a little preposterous that the two had been courting since she was practically a child.

"Maybe a bit outrageous to civilization, but out here it's perfectly normal," he shrugged, grabbing a clay bowl from a pile. I followed suit. "Things are more relaxed than in the big city with all it's advanced technological gizmos and everyone judges your every sneeze and step. My dear Estela and I jumped the broom long ago, back when she was but fourteen. I was twenty-two myself."

"A bit of an age difference," I admitted.

"Love knows no age limit," he grinned, and filled his bowl with brown, lumpy looking stew. On any other occasion, it would have looked revolting, but I was starving and it smelled so good that I felt my mouth watering for it. I graciously took the ladle from him, and poured the soup out into my borrowed clay bowl. The bowl turned warm in my hands, and I quickly followed the Paulson family to a spot on the grass, setting myself down to eat.

Zachary and Estela Paulson were sitting close together, and their girl, Kristen was with her '_Novio'_, as she put it in Spanish. They were still waiting in line, a bit of a way from getting to their bowls. I looked around, hearing a boy's voice chattering on and on, curiously wondering who the chatterbox was. My blood froze when I saw it was the boy, Antonio, talking excitedly to Erik, who was slowly chewing his supper. He was in a bad mood when I had tried to talk to him before, and I wondered if this little boy would set him off like a ticking time bomb.

"...and so then Claude finally got the nerve up enough to ask her if she wanted to dance with him. Of course, she said yes, because Karlie had already told us Sarina liked Claude. There he was, spinning her around across the field in plain sight of the newlywed couple! You'd think the bride might have killed the two for taking the spotlight that night. But ever since then, they've been together," the boy rambled on.

"Antonio, I don't think Monsieur Erik is in a very good mood right-" I tried to say, but Erik interrupted me.

"Nonsense, Mademoiselle. Antonio here has been telling me some very fascinating things about the people in his camp. Please, continue on," he said, much to my surprise. Erik looked up at me with a wink. He didn't seem to be actually interested in what the boy had to say, but looked as though he was listening attentively, out of politeness.

"Thank you, _señor_," the boy sniffed with pride. "As I was saying, they're just about the youngest couple here. My sister is older though, fifteen. Speaking of which, I'm going to be twelve soon, just a month! We're already making preparations for the big fiesta! Anyways, she's in LOVE with her _novio, _Didier! She never stops talking about him! I swear, if I ever got a girlfriend, not like I ever would, girls are gross. But if I did, I would know when to shut my mouth about them at home!"

"Girls are gross, are they?" Erik smirked at him.

"Beyond disgusting! They're always being all nice, and not wanting to get dirty playing in the forest which might stain their dress. There's no fun girls around at this camp, anyway. Someday, I'm going to Paris and I'll find a fun girl who laughs at funny things and doesn't mind the mud and rain. It'll be easy as pie."

"Finding the girl of your dreams may be harder than you think, Antonio," Erik said, and I wondered if he was thinking about Christine. "Not every girl is what they might seem."

"Yeah, I guess so. But there's absolutely no one in this camp that I think is pretty."

"Oh, I see how it is," a female voice said, and Antonio's face turned a shade of red accenting it's tan color. He turned around behind him, and Erik and I looked as well. There was a girl about his age with fair skin and even paler hair, almost white, and chopped to a bob. She had an odd coloring to her blue ringed eyes with gray and green inside, and a random spot of almost red in one, and a smirk on her face. A boy-ish cap sat atop her head, and she wore a boy's vest, and patched up boy's pants. She had bare feet, and dirt was smudged across her left cheek. Her paleness stuck out like a sore thumb among the tan gypsies, and she almost reminded me of a younger me, with lighter hair.

"Uh.. um, well... I'd say you're pretty if you wanted to," he babbled, thunderstruck. The girl frowned suddenly, her shocking green eyes blazing and pale arms crossed.

"Pretty? You think I'm PRETTY, Antonio Paulson? Hasn't your mother taught you what to say to a proper lady?" she raged. I was shocked by her display, and Antonio blushed deeper.

"I-I'm sorry, Poppy. You're... uh..." he stuttered. The girl's smile returned.

"I prefer the term adorable, thank you," she said, then turned to Erik. She didn't question who he was, or how he looked, but yelled, "BISCUIT!" and then proceeded to pelt him with a biscuit that had seemed to come out of nowhere, before running off. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying not to laugh as Erik, with a stunned expression, picked the biscuit off the ground. He raised his visible eyebrow.

"Well, I can honestly say I never expected that to happen," he said simply, and Antonio started to chuckle, the redness in his face going down.

"Poppy Staunton is certainly full of surprises," he commented. "You should hear about the time she claimed that she drowned a school of fish. Or the time when she surprised the whole camp on Christmas by sneaking in all their tents and pretending to be Santa Claus. Of course, he's not real, but the children didn't know it until then. We actually found her in the forest, wandering and dirty. We were both only six then."

"So this girl... Poppy? She's an orphan?" I asked. He nodded.

"Well, I guess. Old _la Señora _Staunton took her in as her own child, but the woman is old, like, in her seventies. And Poppy can't be confined. Mama says she has something wrong with her, and I guess she's a little hyperactive, but she's sweet and pretty- I mean cute! No, uh, I mean... she's okay..." he said in a rush, looking down at the ground.

I smiled sympathetically. "You've got it bad for her, don't you?" He looked up, ashamed and nodded slowly.

"Do... do you think I'm weak for falling in love?" he asked Erik. I looked up at him, actually wondering what he was going to say. Erik looked deep in thought for a moment, not because of his question, but debating how to phrase it is how he looked.

"Antonio, you are young, just eleven years old. People don't fall in love that young. What you have is something smaller. You like her, that's for certain. The look on your face can tell me that. No, you're not weak for falling in what you call love. There are certain people who... who can't be loved," Erik choked a bit at this and I felt horrible for him. Antonio was oblivious and was hanging on to every word. "I don't believe you will be one of them. No, weak men do not fall in love. Strong men do, because the responsibility of having a woman beside him is the greatest responsibility there is, and if you loose the girl... you must be strong."

Antonio looked half confused, but nodded. "Yes, I think I get it," he said thoughtfully, though I doubted he knew, because Erik was half talking to himself in his little speech.

I felt a small shred of sympathy, and thought that Erik probably deserved a moment to himself, Antonio willing to leave him alone. So I turned around, focusing back on my stew. I heard faint whispers behind me, but could still make them out.

"Did someone break your heart, _señor? _You seem to be a very strong man."

"Yes... my heart was broken, earlier this year. I pray you don't ask for details."

"Can I ask who it was? Was it _Señoritta _Meg?"

"No... Mademoiselle Meg has done nearly nothing at all to harm me. She's an angel. It was a woman named... Christine."

"Do you love her?"

"Christine?"

"No, _Señoritta _Meg. You obviously can't love this Christine anymore. It's like you said, strong men have to deal with woman leaving them. I can imagine the strongest man must be able to move on to another person. And to me, you and _Señoritta _Meg get along well, you seem to be good friends. It seemed a bit likely to me."

There was a silence for a moment, my heart pounding must have been the only sound before Erik answered. "Yes, the strongest men move on," was all he said, and I felt my heart leap into my throat. I wasn't completely sure why, however. It wasn't like he had actually said that he loved, or even briefly fancied me. My head spun a little as I thought of the chance that the fearsome Phantom of the Opera could fancy me, and I almost laughed at the idea. It wasn't as if I loved him, anyway. He was just a family friend, after all, if friend was even the right word.

"Besides my own Papa, I think that you are one of the strongest men I know, and we've only just met. So you have moved on?" Antonio pressed.

"Yes, I have moved on. I do not love Christine like I used to."

"Do you think that someday, you might learn to love another? Maybe _Señoritta _Meg?" Antonio persisted. Another short silence.

"There are some people in this world who are not made to be loved by others. No woman could ever love me, that's what Christine has taught me."

Antonio scoffed. "You seem so shamed about yourself. This Christine you speak of must be loopy, because _I _you're very fun to talk to. I imagine that _Señoritta _Meg loves you because you're so nice." I blushed, praising God that my back was turned.

"That would be highly improbable," Erik said, with a slight chuckle.

"But not impossible!" Antonio whispered cheerfully.

"You seem very keen that Mademoiselle Meg and I are together, why?" Erik asked with what seemed like humor in his voice.

"Well, you two seem to talk a lot, and you come from the same place. I supposed that you two would know each other well."

Erik didn't say anything more, and neither did Antonio. They ate in silence, and it was deafening. The crowd was all over, screaming and shouting, but all I heard was the unbearable silence, until a single voice shattered it.

"ANTONIO!" cried out a voice. I turned around, and saw the boy from out in the forest, Tony, running and waving to him. Antonio grinned and stood up.

"Tony! _¿Cómo estás?" _Antonio asked the boy.

"Fine, thank you. Did we miss out on the stew?"

"No, there must still be some over there in the big black soup pot," Antonio said, pointing where the line was getting very short. Tony grinned.

"Ah... I've been waiting for this all day!" he said, turning around. "Geoffry! Hurry, we're going to miss the food!" I turned and saw a tall, lanky and awkward man of about nineteen or twenty. He was very skinny, and his face was more red than white. He had on a too small cotton button up shirt and mousy long brown hair like his younger brother. He was wearing sandals and a normal pair of pants. He stared straight at me with big eyes, and stopped for a second, like he was surprised. Then he shook his head and kept walking on towards us.

"Uh... Tony? Antonio? Who are these... these guests of yours?" the man asked a bit nervously, and kept glancing at me every now and then.

"This is _Se__ñor _Erik Graye and _Señoritta _Meg de Barbazac. They are lost travelers, and we're helping them get back on their feet," Antonio smiled triumphantly.

"How... interesting," the man said with a lick of his lips and another glance at me.

"And whom do we have the pleasure of addressing?" I asked him, standing up.

"Geoffrey. Geoffrey Eccels, _Mademoiselle,_" he said, bowing, and holding his hand out. Not know what else to do, I placed mine on top of his. He kissed it and I pulled it back somewhat in disgust. The man's lips were sweaty, and I secretly wiped my hand off on my dress.

"A gentleman, how lovely," I tried being kind. He gave me a small smile.

"Yes, well, ah... we'd better get some of that stew, Tony," he said, dragging his little brother along. As soon as they were out of hearing, I turned to Antonio, who had begun laughing. I looked up at Erik, but his gaze was distinctively on the back of Monsieur Eccels, somewhat threateningly. I was stunned to see such intense animosity from him.

"What's so funny?" I asked with a hand on my hip.

"_Dios mio__,_ Geoffry Eccels was more nervous than I was around Poppy!" he laughed. "And he's got a major thing for you, that's for sure!"

I looked back to the man and cringed. He wasn't the best looking man... that was for sure. And I could see the sweat glistening off his forehead in an unpleasant way. But who was I to judge by people's appearance?

"I'm sure he's... nice," I managed. Antonio just laughed even harder. I rolled my eyes and turned around to where Zachary and Estela Paulson should have been sitting, and saw that Mr. Paulson was missing. I looked up, and saw him playing his fiddle a bit of a ways across the lawn. He was playing with two other men, another fiddle, and a pipe of some kind. Faintly, I heard the music. It wasn't something I recognised, but it was lively and I saw some children dancing to it from where I sat. I smiled at the innocent, young souls.

I wondered what Erik was like as a child. Did he ever dance with friends to two fiddles and a pipe? No, his past was still mostly a secret to me. I knew that my mother had brought him from some kind of slave owners to the Opera, but that was it. I didn't even know who his slaveholders were, or how he was treated by them, matter of fact, but I had a feeling it was awfully. It was really no wonder he was the criminal he is today, he was never a child. Erik was on his own, had to be a responsible adult at a young age and take care of himself.

I looked at the deformed genius again, his eggshell mask glimmering in the last rays of light from the day. He really was handsome, his features almost looking as if a cherub had carved them. But I knew of the monstrosity that lay beneath the white covering of the mask, and in contrast to the beauty lay death personified. He must have had, and was still having, such a miserable life. I wondered if he was not deformed on the side of his face, would Christine have accepted him to love? He would be the most popular composer in all of Paris, if not France, then Europe, then the whole world.

It was a shame, and just plain unfair, and I supposed life went on, no matter what it threw at us.

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><p><strong><em>I've had a busy life since the last update, so it's been tough to get around to writing. Also, inspiration isn't fair and you can't predict when it comes and goes. Hopefully, the way I put my ideas into words will start working better soon. Cookies to anyone who can name what Broadway show the title of this chapter comes from! <em>**

**_School starts up on September 1st (BEFORE Labor Day. My school district is special in all the wrong ways), so I'm sorry if updates seem to take forever and a day. The good news is that yesterday at Pike Place Market (in Seattle) there's this little nerdy comic shop, and I wore my "I 3 3 the Doctor" shirt, which is a reference from the Sci-Fi show Doctor Who. The staff actually applauded me and told me not to kiss the cardboard standees. Once I have some more money, that cardboard Dalek is SO going in my room._**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	15. The Strangest Motivation

_**Chapter 15: The Strangest Motivation**_

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><p>"So, Antonio, I'm imagining you'd like blueberry pie for your birthday?" Estela Paulson asked her son as she rummaged through a sack full of rice, then another full of beans.<p>

"Oh, yes, Mama!" he said from his place on his mat of a bed, setting a sketch down from his lap. He had been drawing using a piece of charcoal from last night's fire. "But what are you making for the fiesta beside pie to bring? Everyone will be there, but it's a potluck, and I'm the guest of honor, so shouldn't we bring something else too? You know, just in case not many people come?"

"Oh, Antonio, you're such a worrier," Estela laughed. "Of course everyone will be there. The Staunton's, the Eccel boys, and I'm sure many, many others."

"Don't forget Didier's family!" Kristen cried from outside the tent, walking in with the wash that she had gone out to pick up in a wicker basket. "He promised to be there for your big day."

Antonio grumbled. "Yes, he'll be there for ME, of course. It's not like he's in love with you or anything." Kristen rolled her eyes.

"Oh, hush. I know that you like Didier, he's like the big brother you've never had," Kristen said, placing each person's clothing by their bed. Antonio cracked a grin.

"The big brother who kisses my big sister! MWAH MWAH MWAH!" he closed his eyes and pretended to kiss the air. Kristen couldn't help but smile.

"Bad comparison on my part, and point taken." she placed a cottony pink and blue dress by my mat they had lent me. It was amazing how easily they had let Erik and I into their camp, for as soon as the night of their big supper was over, I was acquainted with half the camp. The next morning, Estela and Kristen had taken me to multiple people throughout the camp, and they greeted us into their tents with small, homemade teacakes and gave me welcome presents for both Erik and I. Mostly, they consisted of clothing, but I had received two dolls that a few young girls insisted I kept because they looked just like me. True, they were dark eyed and blond haired like I, and they had insisted I keep them. I had thanked them after protesting a bit because I hadn't wanted to steal the toys from the children. We were given in total thirteen new dresses for me, two dolls, and a few outfits for Erik, as well has many warm welcomes, and even a spice cake. The gypsies were certainly having a positive effect on me.

One of my favorite dresses was black, with a crimson laced bodice in the front. The dress went down to my knees, layered black, red, then black again, with a lace frill at the end and across the top. It much reminded me of the dress I wore in _Don Juan Triumphant, _though it was much less revealing, thank God. Another something that caught my eye was a worn pair of ballet slippers from woman named Norris, whose daughter had practiced dance before she ran off with a trumpet player. But the one that was the most beautiful and spectacular was a light blue one, just the perfect shade of the sky on a clear day. The sleeves were almost silky and hung down midway to my arm, then flowed out, not unlike a river. The middle had a small corset, nothing that would squeeze the life out of me, but it would at least look nice. The end of the dress came up to my knees, as almost everyone's dresses did. Kristen said it was because they were easier to move about and to dance in.

My birthday had passed, and I was now eighteen years old. Since it was on such short notice that the Paulson's found out, there was no huge fiesta, but a small party in their tent was thrown. We had a bit of cake and over the next few days, multiple families gave me small gifts, like sewed pot holders or a new hair ribbon. Erik played me a song on his violin, one from the opera days of our lives. It was a glorious birthday, but I found myself missing home and my mother more than ever before.

"Kristen, dear, won't you go fetch your father? I need him to go out and chop some wood," Estela said, turning a potato over in her hands, carefully inspecting it and holding it up to the light. Kristen sighed.

"I'm already finishing the laundry up. Can't you put Antonio to work?" she asked, placing a pair of pants on Antonio's mat.

"Fine. Antonio, fetch your father. And be quick, I'll be finished picking out what to make for dinner soon, and I'll need a good, healthy fire," Estela said, placing the potato back into the bag and grabbing another.

"No need for that, I'm home," came Zachary Paulson's jolly voice from outside the tent as he ducked down to walk inside. "Must be some kind of instinct, I've already made sure we have enough wood." He walked over to Estela and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Erik has been asking me constantly to teach him to practice sword-fighting, and I'm about to go give him his lesson. I'll see you girls later. You too, Antonio!"

"Can't I come, Papa?" Antonio stood up eagerly, tossing his charcoal to the ground and wiping his hands off on his pants. Kristen put a hand on her hip.

"Now what did you go on and do that for, Antonio? I hadn't just finished up cleaning all your trousers just so you could dirty them up again!" Kristen said with a pout. Antonio rolled his eyes.

"Please, Papa? Can't I come watch? Please?" Antonio was nearly jumping in his place with excitement. "It's almost my birthday, shouldn't I be able to do what I want?"

Zachary looked up to Estela and she shrugged to him, bringing her attention back onto the potato inspecting. "You'd better not get a scratch on my boy though, or it'll be your head in the soup tonight."

Zachary smiled, his brilliant white teeth shining through his ginger beard as he laughed. "Come along, then, Antonio, you haven't got all day!" Antonio's face lit up and he pulled a pair of shoes on quickly.

"Thank you, Papa! You're not gonna regret it!" he cried, racing out of the tent and pulling his cap on. Zachary pulled his attention to Kristen.

"Kristen, once you're finished up with the wash, care to join us?" he asked. "A little self-defence never hurt anyone. Well, okay, that's a lie, but care to join us anyway?" Kristen moaned.

"Oh, Papa, my feet are killing me. Didier and I went on a hike yesterday, and my body is still punishing me for it. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world!" she said, glowing. I stood up from where I sat.

"I didn't know you knew how to sword-fight," I said with raised eyebrows. Zachary smiled.

"Of course! Didn't I tell you? Went to a military school as a child, not that it did me any good, except how to fire a gun or swing a sword," he said.

"May I watch too?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? We're hiking out into the woods to practice, barely fit for a young French woman, if you'll pardon it," Zachary said. Kristen put her hands on her hips again.

"Hey!"

"You're hardly a delicate little rose, Kristen. You've more muscles than all the gluttonous fops in Paris combined," Zachary said with a smirk.

"Neither am I, Monsieur," I said, crossing my arms. "You misjudge my strength."

Zachary shrugged. "It's your funeral, I suppose. Come along, then. Slap on a pair of shoes and we'll be off!" Zachary walked out of the tent, and I jumped over to my mat, looking around. My ballet slippers and flats would simply not do. It was a good thing I still had the boy's boots that Erik gave me. I slipped them on and waved goodbye to the girls before running outside.

The sun was shining brightly in the late Spring heat. Lots of men had their sleeves rolled up, or weren't even wearing a shirt. I shielded my eyes from the brightness, and located the three males just a bit away, Zachary and Erik picking up their sword cases. My heart leaped a little when I saw Erik standing there, his mask glimmering in the sunshine and a smile upon his face as he talked with Zachary. When we had first arrived almost a month ago, Erik had had a period of time trying to stay away from the gypsies as much as possible. But when Zachary asked Erik to play the violin for the Paulson's and I, he seemed to get along well with Zachary. They were hardly apart, and Estela had jokingly said that her husband had gone and deserted her for Erik.

"Ah, there you are, Meg! Good to see you so eager to watch!" Zachary beamed. "Well, off we go then, no use wasting time!" Erik swung his sword case over his shoulder carefully, and we all started walking out into the forest. "So, Erik, are you still up for playing at Antonio's fiesta?"

Erik smiled, the visible half of his face lit up. "Did he lend you his violin?" Zachary grinned back.

"Of course! We haven't been rehearsing our music all for nothing these past weeks, have we?" he laughed.

"You two are playing at my fiesta?" Antonio bounded up and down. "But Papa, don't you only have one violin?"

"Gary across the camp has his own violin, you know. He's lending it to us for your big day!" Zachary said, ruffling his son's hair up with his free hand. Antonio laughed.

"That's going to be the best present of all! My father and Senor Erik playing for me!" he said, running up to Erik and hugging him. "Thank you guys!" Erik looked down and smiled, hugging Antonio back. My heart fluttered again. Erik had become so much kinder, any trace of his former Phantom self had nearly disappeared. He was oddly the favorite person of nearly every kid in the camp, even with his mask. Kristen told me all the girls had a crush on him, the dark and mysterious stranger from the big city. Everyone was jealous of her because he slept in the same tent as her. Erik was good with the children, too. It almost made my heart break, he would have been such a good father, if it wasn't for his deformity to keep him away from anyone loving him.

"Ah, this looks like a nice place. Why don't we start here, Erik?" Zachary suggested as we came up to a small open space, a little field.

"Come on, Meg! We can go sit on this log!" Antonio exclaimed and dragged me over to sit down on a fallen tree.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I laughed, sitting down. "You're the eager beaver today!"

"I can't wait to watch Papa teach Senor Erik to fight!" Antonio said giddily.

"You men have the oddest hobbies," I smiled.

"Keep out of trouble, you two!" Zachary called and turned towards Erik. They began talking, mumbled from where I was. I heard Zachary asking Erik if he'd ever fought before. Erik said only once or twice, and he had only improvised then, he didn't really know how to fight with a sword. Zachary showed him how to hold his sword, how to move it the right way. Erik would furrow his eyebrows or narrow his eyes every now and then, like he was concentrating on how to swing the sword. About an hour later, Antonio and I were cheering and yelling as they both fought each other, Zachary going easy on him because he was a beginner. But Zachary had to soon not go so easy on him, because it seemed Erik was a natural.

Soon, they both had to take a break. Sweating, Erik walked over to me and plopped down on the log. He was breathing heavily and dabbed his forehead, smiling. "You're doing great out there," I smiled. He looked over to me and shrugged.

"Thank you. I've been in a good mood for a while now, I can't remember having a better time." he said jubilantly.

"Say it. I was right about the gypsies. They're kind, and you love them!" I smirked.

"Okay, you were right!" he said, still grinning.

"Not even putting up a little fight? That's no fun," I teased. "You can fight Zachary with a sword, but can't fight me with words?" He shrugged again and took a handful of water from the bucket I'd fetched for them to drink. "That's a very kind thing you're doing for Antoino, playing at his birthday. You're his idol, you know."

He just smiled for a moment. "Meg, I'm almost thankful everything happened the way it did. Of course, the whole Beaure issue could've been done without, but everything that has happened seemed to have worked out nicely." I stared for a moment, shocked.

"Beaure, I'd almost completely forgotten about him!" I exclaimed. "I suppose we've been having too good of a time here to remember, huh?" Erik smiled back.

"Yeah, I really wouldn't mind staying here the rest of my life," Erik commented. "This whole sword-fighting lesson is to be prepared, in case we ever cross paths with him again."

"God forbid we we don't, of course," I replied. Erik nodded.

"God forbidding."

"Although, I do miss my mother, and my friends. I wonder whatever could've happen to her and the others, if they made it out safely," I said a bit quieter, my smile fading.

"I'm sure they're fine. They're probably all worried about you right now. I know I would be if I didn't know where you were, or if you were safe or not," he said looking directly at me. I whipped my head towards him.

"You would?" I asked, my face growing red. I thought I saw a hint of color on his face too, but I couldn't be sure.

"Well, yes. I suppose that's what would happen if you went missing. I swore to your mother that I'd keep you safe, and I mean to keep my word. She was almost like a mother to me, a caretaker, and it would be horrific if I betrayed her trust," he said, his eyes darting towards a nearby tree. My heart sank.

"Oh, my mother? Is that all?" I asked softly. "Are you just my guardian angel?"

"Hardly an angel," Erik scoffed. "Not looking like this."

"That's not what Christine thought," I mumbled so quietly that I thought he couldn't hear me, but he turned around, his smile gone completely.

"Meg... please don't say that name again," he said quietly. Not menacingly, like the Phantom would have, but like a man who's accepted defeat. I instantly felt awful for saying her name and nearly knocked myself in the head for it.

"Oh, Erik. I'm so sorry, I didn't even think!" I cried out, embracing him tightly. Whenever I used to hug him before, he would awkwardly not know what to do, or go rigid, or would'nt even want a hug, being such a tough person. But now, softened by the time with gypsies, he squeezed me back tightly. Erik wrapped his arms around my back and hugged me closer to him.

"It's alright... I've moved on. But memories are still painful, no matter what happens. It's not your fault... it's mine. If I had never trusted that someone as beautiful as her could fall in love with someone as hideous as me, none of this ever would have happened," he sighed, our bodies still pressed together.

"Yes, but if you never had, I might have never met you in person. As you said, the hardships we faced could've been dealt without, but it's worth these moments, isn't it?" I smiled. He released me from his grasp and sighed.

"Meg, even if your mother... even if I didn't give her my word, I'd still protect you. You know that, right?" he asked slowly. I nodded back.

"Of course, that's what we have to do in foreign territory. Help each other adapt, and stick together," I answered. Erik nodded.

"Good. I hoped you wouldn't just think I was doing all of this for your mother, just because I'm friends with her," Erik said. "Some things have the most unlikely motivations."

"And what exactly is that motivation?" I asked, my heart suddenly pounding.

He was quiet for a moment, then turned to me with a serious expression on his face and a twinkle in his eye. "If you haven't realized it by now, Meg, I don't know if you ever will."

I didn't know what to say to that, or what to make of it. We were quiet again. "I-I'm not sure what you mean," I eventually said, my whole body nearly shaking.

Erik was staring at the ground with a sudden shadow over his face. It startlingly reminded me of the previous Phantom he used to be. "I was stupid enough to even attempt it with Christine, I should've learned by now," he growled, and I can honestly say I felt a bit alarmed.

Erik stood up. "Zachary? Should we take back up where we left off?" He walked off with him voice back to normal, and I stared at his receding figure. His startling and confusing answer made the gears in my head begin to turn. It would have taken an idiot like me to not realize it by now. All the things he'd said to me, the conversation with Antonio on our first day in camp, the sword fighting lessons to protect me, the glares at that teenage boy who was talking to me, it all made sense now.

The Phantom of the Opera, Erik, was in _love _with me.

But I wasn't sure if I was in love with him.

"Damn!" I exclaimed, dropping the knife back onto the crate where I was cutting carrots. Kristen looked up immediately from cutting up her carrot for the stew. My own carrot sat, only half cut up, and now next to a bloody knife.

"_Dio Mio_, are you okay?" she asked, running up to me. I took a look at my finger. I had sliced a gruesome slice down my finger, and it was throbbing, like a tiny heartbeat of its own.

"Yeah... I just cut my finger. Ow, it hurts! You wouldn't happen to have bandages, would you?" I said through clenched teeth. Kristen thought for a second, then snapped her fingers.

"I've got something even better! Wait here for a second. Here, wrap this rag around your cut, if you would!" she said and ran to her mat. The family was gone from the house except for Kristen and me, who were preparing dinner. They were all outside starting up the fire. I pressed the rag to my bloody finger and hissed a bit. I must have cut it more than I thought.

Kristen returned with a small box of something. She opened the lid and pulled out a small green plant, and plucked one of the leaves off. "Here, eat this."

"What is it?"

"Polly Parker's Plant," she said. "Eat it, it'll stop the bleeding." I took the leaf and hesitantly chewed it up, swallowing it. Nothing changed.

"Kristen, how exactly-?"

"Sh! Just watch!" she said, taking the wrapped towel from my bloodied finger. I looked down at the gory sight, and gasped as the torn flesh began to repair itself nearly instantly. I dropped the rag to the floor in surprise.

"What is this? Witchcraft?" I gasped, staring at the finger, which was still bloody, but healed. Kristen smiled.

"Might be. I'm not really sure. We got it from a dying woman who passed through our camp. I was the one who took the most care of her. So as a reward, before she died, she gave a small tin of this to me. Her name was Polly Parker, and this was the miracle plant she'd discovered. She said it was the last of it in the world, and it would heal nearly any cut, burn or rash, as long as it wasn't life threatening. She knew she couldn't be saved by it, because old age was one thing it wouldn't cure. After that, she died, leaving me with this," Kristen explained. "Sure, she was a crazy lunatic, but it seems to work. Here, take some of it. You only need a little bit to heal, because you only ate one leaf, and just look at your finger! Perfect! Well, nearly. Here, let's wash that off for you, don't need any more blood than needed on our soup."

I took a stem with 12 leaves on it gratefully, and tucked it away in my ballet slippers. Whatever it was, it would sure come in handy if we ever had to leave the gypsy camp again.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Mmm, things are beginning to take a turn for romance, huh? :) NOTE: Polly Parker's Plant is totally fake. If it was real, it would be the answer to everything at all times. :P<em>**

**_(PS, did anyone watch the new Doctor Who episode Saturday? It totally messed with my mind and my head blew up. :P)_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	16. Let the Celebration Begin

_**Chapter 16: Let the Celebration Begin**_

* * *

><p>"COME ON!" Antonio yelled impatiently from outside the tent. "I'm going to be late for my own party because of you all!"<p>

"We're women, Antonio, and women have to look their best at parties!" Kristen sassed back as she pulled her dancing shoes on. She wanted to look pretty but comfortable at the same time. It wasn't a bad idea, really, and I decided to put on my own dancing shoes when I had my dress on. "Meg, you wouldn't mind buttoning me up, would you?"

"No problem," I said, walking over to her, still only half dressed myself. Kristen was wearing a cream colored dress with sleeves that hung down like a bell, the skirt cut off exactly at her knees. There was a bow of the same color tied around her waist. Her hair was normal, in two braids. She looked gorgeous, and by the gleam in her eyes, I knew she knew it. I buttoned up the back and she grinned.

"Thanks! Meet you outside!" she leaped outside where her boyfriend, Didier was waiting. She was so excited to see him that she hadn't given me any time to ask if she could button ME up. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the far side of the tent where Estela was gathering the food they'd cooked for the fiesta.

"You wouldn't mind buttoning me up, Estela? Your daughter was so eager to get outside I had no time to ask her for the favor," I said with a smile.

"Of course," Estela laughed back. I turned around as she buttoned my sky blue dress up. It was the one that was my favorite, and my hair was pinned up into a bun instead of cascading down like I normally did.

"Meg, you look brilliant tonight," she said airily. "I'm sure all eyes will be on you. Antonio will be furious." I smiled.

"I'll have to apologize," I joked.

"Is there anyone in particular who's eye you're trying to catch?" she teased.

"No, not really," I said, knowing that I'd already caught the eye of Erik. It had been about two or three days since Erik and I had had our last real conversation during the sword fighting lesson. Ever since I had realized the heavy truth that he was in love with me and didn't expect me to love him back, things had obviously gotten more tense and awkward between us. I had wanted to try and talk with him, but he seemed to avoid me at all costs. I didn't blame him, but I knew that if we lived our whole life here, we would eventually have to speak.

"But you really do look absolutely stunning. I only wish that I could still fit into normal dresses," she said with a huge smile.

"Now, don't talk that way! You're skinnier than half the woman I used to know back home," I said when she was finished, spinning around to face her. She just grinned.

"Not fat..." she said softly. I looked to her stomach, which bulged a little, now that I looked at it. Then it clicked.

My eyes widened suddenly and my hands rushed to my mouth to keep from laughing. "Oh, my God! You're pregnant!" Estela nodded excitedly.

"Yes! Only you and my husband know, I'm going to tell the family tomorrow! Isn't it marvelous?" she squealed.

"Oh, Estela, that's wonderful!" I whispered. Estella's eyes sparkled.

"Yes, and maybe someday soon you'll have children of your own and I can be a godmother as well as mother. You two are like family to us, Erik and you," Estela said. "We had better hurry to the party, or else Antonio will kill us!" I smiled.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>I looked all around the open field, which wasn't so open anymore. There were tons of people there, all of the neighbors and friends in the camp, all here for Antonio. The field was decorated with candles and lanterns so that people could see in the dying light and into the night. There were multiple tables of food where people placed what they had brought, and even a small pile of gifts from their Paulson's closest friends. The men were dressed a bit more formal than normal, and the woman were wearing their brightest or showiest dresses. Antonio's eyes were lit up brightly, his face completed with a huge pearly grin. "Oh, wow!"<p>

"Happy birthday,_ mi hijo_," Estela bent down and hugged him. He hugged her tightly back.

"_Gracias, mamá_," he laughed. Kristen and Zachary joined in on the hug with a smile and they all closed their eyes. I wish I had a painting of how they looked. So together. So whole. So... happy. There was a small pain in my heart as I watched their moment of wholeness. They looked so complete, even Estela with her unborn child. I knew that the baby would be born into a loving family.

They broke apart and I heard a boy's voice. "Antonio! It's about time you got here! You're late for your own party!" I turned and saw the boy Tony running up to Antonio. I wondered if Tony's real name was Antonio, and they just called him Tony not to confuse the names. Looking up, I saw the boy without his hat and his hair neatly combed for the first time I'd seen.

_"Mamá_, may I go play with Tony?" Antonio asked.

"It's your birthday, go do what you want!" Zachary said, still carrying his violin case. Erik was to my right, holding a violin case of his own. He was looking very good, with his clean black pants and bow tie that he'd saved with his costumes. It was red, accenting the black and white of the rest of his formal dress. I found myself staring at him, and had to pull my head away. I blushed and looked around for something else to look at. Unfortunately, I did.

Geoffrey Eccels, Tony's sweaty big brother, was striding over to me, grinning ear to ear. He was wearing a nicer suit than usual, but nothing nearly as fancy as Erik's. His hair was drenched in sweat, and I could already see that his underarms were soaked. I had to hold back a grimace as he walked straight up to me. "Meg! Hi!" He said shortly, still grinning. I forced a smile back.

"Hello, Geoffrey," I said, not thinking of anything else I could say. He stood there just smiling for a moment and my smile faded in the awkwardness of the situation. "Um, is there something I could help you with?"

Geoffrey shook his head, and I swore I felt sweat sprinkle on me. "Oh, yes! Yes, I'm sorry, you just look stunning tonight!" I smiled back.

"Thank you,"

"Well, you are! And I, uh... was wondering if you wanted to dance later? Just save a dance for me, once the band strikes up?" Geoffrey asked. I bit my lip and looked over at Erik, he was just a bit away from me, but was staring at Geoffrey with an undoubtedly cold stare. I looked back to the man and sighed.

"Sure, Geoffrey. I'd be happy to," I meekly said before I really thought about it. He grinned even wider.

"That's great! I'll come fetch you when the music starts!" he said, waving and running back away towards the tables of food. I sighed as I watched him run off. I heard Erik growl next to me. Cringing a little and biting my lip, I turned around to him.

"Why do you do that when you know that it would upset me?" he growled.

"I can't please everyone," I sighed.

"You could at least try," he hissed through clenched teeth. I frowned.

"Listen, I'm sorry that I don't know if I return your feelings, but we haven't spoken since the lessons, and if we don't anytime soon, this could ruin any friendship between us! Can we at least smile at each other again?" I begged.

"No," he snapped, looking at me for the first time. "Nothing will _ever_ be the same between us again. Don't you realize that? Love is a vicious monster, and once it claims you, it almost never lets go. I've tried moving on with Christine, I've tried my damnedest to never fall in love again! And what do you do? You bounce right into my mind with your kindness and flowing blond hair, and everything! If I can't have you, then don't you think it hurts to see you making promises to dance with someone else?"

"If it makes any difference, it's not like I'm in love with him!" I argued back, getting a little fed up myself. "And I'm a grown woman, I can make my own choices! If you'd like, I can reserve a dance for you after him, if that's what-"

"No, I would _not _like a dance, Mademoiselle. I'll be busy playing in the orchestra, and I don't want to be on some sort of waiting list to have my turn," he growled. "I would willingly kill anyone who was after your affection!"

I was silent in shock. He hadn't changed. He was the same Phantom that had fallen in love with Christine. The dark, lonely man that I didn't know. I could see the same shadow covering his face that I'd seen before in the prison, and right before I realized he was in love with me. I was frightened, genuinely and certainly. It must have been apparent on my face, because his look suddenly softened. He reached out and put his hands softly on my shoulders. "Meg, I didn't mean-"

I tore myself out of his grip, disgusted. "I think you've said enough, Erik. I thought that I might've changed you, but now I can see I was miserably wrong," I said in a whisper. I then proceeded to storm away. I was so revolted by his words that I had no clue where to go, so I just walked past the food tables and plopped myself down on a patchwork of clovers in a huff.

I steamed a few minutes, thinking. Who was he to have control over me? And I WAS tired of being in the background, blending in. Maybe, for once, I wanted to be the main character, the principal part. Maybe...maybe I wanted to be the one that all the men pined after. Was it possible that I was enjoying this in my own devilish, twisted sort of way?

I sighed and a wave of sadness overcame me. I was a horrible person. Really, I was. I was using Erik not unlike Christine had. But Christine had a _reason_ behind her betrayal to Erik, she had a man who she actually loved. I certainly wasn't in love with Geoffrey. I was just dancing with him out of kindness. Then, it suddenly came to me in a wave of horror: I wanted Erik to fight for me.

In my subconscious, that longing was there. The longing that Erik would fight for me, claim me like he had claimed Christine. I wanted him to show just how much he loved me, not just words as reassurance. And he had even said that he would willingly kill for me. What if he really would? I felt myself flush pale as I wondered if Geoffrey would live until tomorrow. I closed my eyes and moaned, holding my head in my hands.

"A-are you ready to dance?" Geoffrey's voice came from above me. I looked up and saw him with his sweaty grin. I turned paler than before.

"Listen, I don't know if it's such a good idea anymore...," I whispered, my gaze wandering to Erik, who frowned as they began playing the song. I locked my gaze back with Geoffrey, who stood with a confused expression. "It's just... I'm not feeling too well, and I don't know if I should dance."

"Oh, well that's fine! Really, it is, let me go get you something to eat, we can just sit here together!" he offered, and before I could protest, he was up and nearly running for the table of food. I bit my lip, wondering if this might turn out to be worse than dancing with him.

I saw Antonio offering a daisy to the little girl, Poppy. Her eyes widened as she took the flower, like no one had ever done that for her before. Then she grinned and hugged the life out of Antonio. He looked as happy as I'd ever seen him. Poppy grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. I smiled, glad everything had at least worked out for Antonio.

Geoffrey appeared after a moment with a small plate of mashed sweet potatoes and two cookies. I gave him a small smile, but didn't take the plate. "Really, I'm not hungry. Why don't you find another girl to dance with? There's plenty women here that aren't busy."

Geoffrey must not have heard the pleading tone in my voice, and sat down right next to me, taking a bite off one of the cookies. "Nonsense, I'm staying here with you." I didn't answer, and brought my knees up to my face, hiding between my tangle of arms and legs.

"I-I don't know if anyone else has caught your eye in this camp, but I'd like to say that I hope we get to talk together more often," Geoffrey said after a few moments. I sank my head deeper into my little hiding place. Then, it occurred to me how to keep him busy.

"Yeah, why don't we get to know each other better? Tell me all about yourself," I prompted, then ignored him and my screaming conscience, staring at Erik.

I thought the whole situation over logically. What was I doing? This didn't make me the better person at all, wanting to be fought over, it made me the selfish one. I wanted him to fight for me back, wanted to be something WORTH fighting over. But I was just making him angry, now. It dawned on me that I might have feelings for Erik too, and it shocked me back into reality. I turned back to Geoffrey, who was still chatting away. I didn't really listen, but just was quiet and let the boy talk until the song was over.

"So, uh, are you feeling better? You want to dance to the next song?" he asked hopefully. I looked over at Erik, who was looking over at us with a murderous glare. He placed his violin back in it's case and I watched as he stormed off to one of the tents that was just used for storage and that no one actually lived in. I thought that he deserved an apology, and as soon as possible.

"Actually, Geoffrey, I need to take care of something. It was nice chatting with you, though," I said hurriedly, then ran off before the next song could begin.

I wanted to be angry with Erik, I really did. I wanted to lecture him on his childish behavior, and lash out on him for trying to control me. But I really knew that if anyone needed a lecture on how to behave un-childishly, it was me. I was the one being such a Prima-Donna, and Erik didn't deserve it, after all he'd done for me. Hell, he'd been so brave as to confess his love for me. He had fought for me in ways that I never could've asked for, and now only did I realize how truly grateful I was. And how I had loved him, all this time, and never could convince myself of it. It was time to set things straight.

I entered through the flaps of the tent. "Erik?" I asked, not quite whispering, but loud enough so that he could hear me. It was dark in the tent, and I didn't know where he was. "Erik? Are you here?"

"Go away," he growled. "You've done enough." His face seemed to come from the entrance, and I spun around. Nothing but the party outside. I sighed. He was using ventriloquism, throwing his voice so that I didn't know where he was. He used to do this in the opera, as my mother had explained long ago in the hospital.

"Listen, I've treated you wrong tonight. For the past couple days, actually. Really, I have. I've come to tell you how sorry I am. Please let me see you?" I called out. No response. "You can either listen to what I have to say like a brave man, or like an ignorant child. Which will it be?"

"I'll take ignorant child," he snapped back. I was a little shocked. Was he that upset? I suppose he had enough reason.

"Fine," I huffed back, continuing on like I was reciting from a book. "Erik, I'm sorry that I so foolishly went off and disobeyed you. I knew it would hurt your feelings. I know that I'm a handful, and that you... you love me. That's why you take such measures to protect me. And I only now realize how grateful I am. So I'm sorry." There was another silence for a moment.

"That's not why I'm so upset," Erik said slowly, his voice now coming from the left corner of the tent. I wasn't sure if it was really him or if he was still throwing his voice. "Not completely, anyway."

"Won't you tell me what else?" I begged.

Erik struck a match and as the light flickered, I saw him in the left corner of the room, standing where his voice _had_ been coming from. He lit a candle that was on a desk close to him. There were many things in the storage tent, like trunks, chairs, tables, and clothing. Erik wasn't wearing his mask, and it lay on the table next to the candle. With a somber expression, Erik looked towards me. I stepped a bit further into the tent, letting the flap shut completely behind me.

"I've hoped that someday, someone might finally care. I don't know what it is about you, but whenever you see my face, you barely react. Just a small hiss or cringe, unlike everyone else. Even your mother could barely stand the sight of me. You are the only person who doesn't back away in fear at the sight of me," he said.

"Yes, I know. You've told me before," I said. "But surely I'm not the kindest. I've treated you badly in the past, I'm defiant and usually won't listen to anyone's advice for my own good, not to mention the fact that I'm hardly the person you want to fall in love with."

He shook his head. "Meg, you are one of the nicest women I've ever met. You've helped me become a better man, granted we're both convicts on the run." I cracked a smile when he said convicts. "But the world is a different place, to me. I'd barely been outside my home in the Opera house before this. Back when Christine was everything to me, I hoped that she would find a way past the monster, to see me. I should have learned with her, and now the same is happening with you. And how many more after, I ask? Once it's safe for you to leave the camp, and you find someone, how will the heartbreak feel again?" I saw a tear fall on the good side of his face and I stood still, unmoving and silent. "I wonder if I had begun with you, taken you as my student, if things might've been different."

"It's an odd fantasy," I said softly. "But I've thought of it on more than one occasion as well. However, Christine was first, and I know that even if you do say you love me, there will always be a spot in your heart for her. She was first."

Erik looked up, slightly surprised. He brushed the tear away from his cheek. "Meg..." he began slowly. "Suppose you were first. Would we have had a chance?"

My poker face twisted up suddenly and I bit my lip, but I couldn't help the tear-choked words that came out. "I wish to heaven I _had _been first!" I sobbed.

In a flash, Erik was by my side. "For God's sake, Meg, where did this come from? Tell me you're lying for my own sake," He took me by my shoulders and I looked up at him through tear-stricken eyes.

"I wouldn't just _say_ something like that, Erik. I've been trying to convince myself otherwise, but it always comes back to the truth. I think we've both known for a while, now. Your face was a blind for me, and although I barely show a reaction to it and think it's not bad, it's been a blind for something I hadn't seen before. A certain fondness for you, and it took me a few days, but once you said you loved me, that blind slowly lifted," I said as the words came to me. Erik had a baffled look on his face.

"This sounds awfully rehearsed."

I choked out a laugh through my tears. "I swear it's not. But what you've done, all that you've done to protect me, entertain me, all that you do on a daily basis is fantastic! It's more than I could ask for, a man fighting to keep us safe. All this time I thought I was just..." I trailed off, staring up at Erik. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of green. They almost looked gold. Was it new? Or maybe it had always been like that, but I only just realized how dazzling they were.

We stared at each other, and his hands shifted from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me close to him. I think we both knew what was coming next, and we had both known for a very long time that it was bound to happen. Before I knew it, my lips were pressed against Erik's in our very first kiss.

* * *

><p>After Meg had left him, Geoffrey had gotten too curious to be contained. He looked all around the party and didn't see her anywhere. Asking around, he got told by his cousin, Veronica, that she had seen Meg go into the storage tent after her friend. So that's exactly where Geoffrey went. But as he lifted up the flap to look inside, he got the biggest shock of the night.<p>

Geoffrey gasped as he stared inside the tent. It was Meg de Barbazac, and her friend with the mask, Erik Graye, and they were kissing. His hands were on her hips, as if locked in place, keeping her from escaping. Meg had wrapped her arms casually around his neck, looking completely content with the horrifying scene. Geoffrey felt a sudden pang through his heart. Meg, the beautiful woman who he had fallen in love with ever since she arrived at the camp, was with another man. Sadness, then anger. But Geoffrey didn't rush inside the tent. No, he was smarter than that, and more clever and cunning as well.

He quickly exited the tent before either could see him, and ran back to his own tent, grabbing the crumpled flyer off his bed and looking at it for a split second, pondering. He didn't want to do this, but for Meg's sake, he had to. Running back out of the tent and up the hill, he made it the the party of men on horses.

"Well?" said the leader of the men. "Is it them?"

Geoffrey, out of breath, nodded his head. "I'm sure of it. But keep your end of the bargain, and leave the girl. Take the man, kill him, but leave Meg, like you said you'd do."

"Of course, we're honest French men," the man said. "Where are they?"

"Down at the party, in the storage tent," Geoffrey answered. "They've been lodging with the Zachary Paulson, the violinist, and his family. I don't care what becomes of them, but remember our bargain."

"Thank you, Monsieur Eccels," the man, George Beaure said with a devilish grin. "But we're no longer in need of your assistance anymore." Beaure cried out, and his men answered in a war-like cry back, as they all raced down the hill on their horses, the hooves pounding the hillside, leaving a shocked Geoffrey to realize what he had done.

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><p><strong><em>So? How was the chapter? I honestly want to know how I did with this scene, and I'm worried it might be a little too odd or intricate to make sense. Surprised? Happy? Shocked? A little angry, even? :P Also, a special thanks to my two newest reviewers, MayFairy and angel2CA! You both made my day! :)<em>**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	17. Party Crashers

_**Chapter 17: Party Crashers**_

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><p>Erik and I broke off the kiss, my eyes still closed. I didn't want to open them, didn't want to spoil the moment. Of course, it wasn't my first kiss. I was a young women who used to be a blond ballerina. Of course I had had sweethearts before. But I wondered if it was Erik's first, if he and Christine had ever actually kissed. So I just kept my arms wrapped tightly around his neck and rested my head on his chest. He didn't remove his arms from my waist, and I felt the racing of my heart begin to slow back down. Neither of us were breathing heavily, since it wasn't much of a passionate, explosive kiss. No, it was something sweeter, and much drier, might I add. It also didn't seem very surprising, as if both of us had already anticipated this moment, long ago. I heard the sound of the band beginning to strike up again, not a soft tune, but not too fast. I smiled a little and chuckled.<p>

"May I have this dance?" I asked, lifting my head up from his chest. He looked down at me and cracked a half-smile.

"Of course you may," he said softly, beginning to sway a bit to the music. "Although, I must say, I don't think I'm all that great of a dance partner, all of the ability to dance seems to have been absorbed by you in the Opera."

"And the song and mystery of the opera to you," I said, chatting casually, and swaying.

"If you wish, I could teach you music, improve your voice. I've been told I'm a slightly different sort of teacher, however."

"As long as you allow me to show you the skill of dance," I smiled.

"Not for me, that graceful art wasn't meant for my tall, lumbering figure."

In a flash, I got onto my pointe and took my hands from his neck, grabbing his hands instead. I lifted one up above me and pirouetted gracefully as possible on grass. I assumed normal position again, but kept hold of his hands, hanging them beside us, our chests nearly touching. "You can teach an old dog new tricks," I joked. He smiled down at me.

"Oh, so now I'm a dog? What does that make you, a rabbit?" he joked back. I grinned with my teeth.

"A rabbit doesn't sound too bad, at least they're soft to the touch and quiet." There was a slight silence between us as we swayed back and forth. "So, what do we do now?" I asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

"About... us," I said back. "The Paulsons, for example. What would they think? They just-"

Erik began to laugh. "If you heard half the things that they say when they think we're asleep. Just the other day, Antonio suggested that he'd plan our wedding, and he'd pick lots of flowers for the bouquets. The night before, Kristen asked Estela if she thought that we would ever be together. I think they've all suspected it for a while, now. It won't be much of a surprise to anyone. Except that... boy, who was in your company with tonight. He might be heartbroken."

"About tonight, I really am sorry. I-I just... I don't know what I was doing. I didn't mean to cause any of that," I blushed.

"Oh, but I'm not. If none of that happened, we wouldn't be in this tent, now would we?" Erik said with a hint of humor and I grinned.

"Then I think it would be in our best interest to stay here. Forever. Maybe, when it's safe to go out again, we can tell my mother where we are. But I think that living here the r-" I began to say, but the music stopped suddenly and there was screaming from outside.

My blood ran cold, and my smile dropped suddenly, as if I was awoken from a spell. Erik and I were silent, as we listened for a moment, to the commotion and screaming. There were men yelling and hollering, both menacingly and fearfully, but the only screaming from women were in fear. I heard the shrieks of children all around as well, and questioned who would attack such a peaceful little camp. Erik let go of my hands, to my unwillingness, and snuck over to the tent flap, which he peered out for a few seconds before turning to me with a grim face. "Well, go on then, what's happening?" I hissed. He kept the grim look on his face and suddenly it clicked. I brought my hands up to my mouth and shook my head. "No..." He nodded gravely. I walked up to him, trying to peer out of the tent, but he blocked my way.

"I just found you, Meg Giry, and I'm not about to let you go now," he said with all seriousness. In another situation, I might have fainted from the romance the words held. But this was a matter of life and death, and in no manner a time to swoon over simple words. Instead, I quietly groaned and held my head, almost feeling sick.

"How did he find us?" I groaned, leaning against a table. "I was going to spend the rest of my life here. WE were..." I sighed, not crying, but not loosing my temper either. "Are we safe in here? From Beaure and the others?"

"No, I don't think we're safe wherever we are. Beaure will ALWAYS find us, in some way," Erik hissed. Suddenly, the tent flap opened up and my heart stopped. But it wasn't Beaure, or any other man for that matter. It was Kristen, looking perfect, besides the murderous look on her face.

"YOU! This is all _your_ fault! _Everything _is your fault! You two are a curse to this camp! You are the DEVIL, Monsieur Erik, and you are the Devil's Mistress, Meg Giry! Yes, I know your name! Why didn't you tell us who you were?" Kristen hissed in the loudest, most fiery whisper I'd ever heard. I bit my lip.

"Kristen, it was for everyone's safety that we didn't!"

Kristen scoffed. "For everyone's SAFETY? If you were concerned for our SAFETY, you would have never set foot on our ground! Because of you, the whole camp is plagued! Who knows if any of us will even survive tonight?"

I felt tears coming to my eyes, looking at Kristen's red, furious, and tear-stricken face. She was just a girl, and there were people younger than herself, out there. Frightened, terrified, their lives at stake, And it was all because of us... "What can we do?" I whispered, trying to keep the whimpering to a minimum. Kristen narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"Nothing, except wait until they find us," she hissed. I felt Erik wrap his arm around me. It was too dangerous to escape through the front flap of the tent, and there was no other visible way out. He hugged my body towards him and lightly kissed my forehead. I felt a tear roll down my eye. So, this is how we get captured, after things finally get sorted out, in a peaceful camp of gypsies, where we might've lived happily ever after. "Listen," she sighed. "We've got two options. Wait until they find us and either die or be taken prisoner, or we can escape. I've got a plan, and all you need to do is follow along. But this DOESN'T mean I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to," I said softly back.

"Now here's the plan: We run like hell," she said, jerking my hand as she suddenly dashed out of the tent. I stumbled, but started running with her, wondering what kind of thought out plan this was. There was commotion all around us as we left the tent, with people running left and right and men on horses herding them away. I even saw one man leap off his horse, yell at one of the gypsies, and slap them in the face before getting back on his horse. Horrified, I ran. Erik was right behind us, and Kristen led our small group to her family's tent in a hurry.

We burst into the tent and immediately Erik began gathering things and throwing them into the black bag that he had taken from the opera. I looked around for things that were absolutely essential and began tossing them in the bag. "Why did they have to come today? Of all days, today?" I kept moaning as I searched around.

"Who are they?" Kristen hissed, watching over us and peering out of the tent every so often. "They say you two are wanted by French law, are you murderers, or what?"

"It's... a long story," I said, tossing in my pair of ballet shoes. Erik gave me a funny look. "What? Of course they're essential!"

"So you ARE murderers!" Kristen said, eyes wide.

"More or less, yes," I answered.

"Then why didn't you kill us?" she argued.

"Don't tempt me," Erik muttered, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Now, let's hurry, we're in more danger than ever if we stay in one place." The three of us ran out of the tent, as fast as we could. But while we were running, I looked about the camp. Men on horses, everywhere. I watched as their angry faces turned this way and that, never quite seeing us. I watched as many a gypsy was wounded or shoved aside. Once, I saw a gypsy screaming and clawing at one of the men and get shot by another man. My eyes grew large and running became even harder.

My heart began breaking as I watched children screaming and crying, running with confusion. Once, I even saw Antonio and little Poppy. Antonio was trying to call Poppy away and Poppy was trying her best to fight the men back with a stick. I knew that Poppy had some kind of problem with her, and that Antonio knew if he didn't stop her, she might be killed by one of the men. I wanted so badly to stop them, to help them, but Erik caught my glance and yelled to me, "DON'T STOP!"

I tore my gaze away from them and just kept running. Miraculously, no one saw us, and we ran into the forest in the other direction from where we had come from so long ago. It seemed like years when in actuality it had only been a month or so. There was a small drop off, where a hill sloped downwards, and a boulder was right on the edge, dug into the earth and would serve as a hiding place for a least a few moments. Erik jumped over a rock and crouched down where he was sure that no one could see us. I followed him and looked up at Kristen, still standing on the rock.

"Kristen, go find your family, bring them here, we can all run away together! The least we can do is run far away enough and drop you off in some town. Please, it's the safest thing!" I whispered. Kristen looked at me with sad eyes.

"I saw my father and mother slaughtered before my very eyes. A man rode up to my father and took his life after confirming he was Zachary Paulson and my father didn't tell him where you two were. M-mother tried to defend him, but it was too late. My father was already dead, and they shot my mother. She fell right beside my f-father," Kristen said, tears starting to fall from her eyes and her tan face began to grow red. I felt my heart sink and my head felt lighter.

"Oh, my God," I whispered, realizing that we were the reason they died. "It's all my fault."

"Yes, it is," Kristen hissed. "I hope it hurts you to think about it."

"Hush," Erik snapped at the girl. "It's not just her fault, it's more me than anyone."

"Good, then the both of you can disappear and leave whoever is left alive here alone," Kristen stung back. Erik turned towards her

"Kristen, at least you had a family that loved you. Mine rejected me, and never once was I shown compassion from them or anyone else. Count your blessings, young one, before you count your tragedies," he growled with intelligent words.

"Is... is that what your face really looks like?" Kristen's voice trembled suddenly, and I realized that Kristen had never seen his face before. I opened my eyes and blinked away tears. A look of horror was thrown across her face.

"Yes, and do you now know why I live in fear, in a lie?" Erik snapped back. "Because of this...this curse that has haunted me all my life. This is how everything started, why the police and thieves are after me. Do you see now, Kristen?"

"No, I don't see it," she said with a shaky voice. "If my brother, or one of my family ever had something like that, I would know. But they don't, and I don't, and I don't know what a life like that is. None of us do. And I can't picture how... how awful it must be to live like that." I wrapped my arms around Erik's body and looked at Kristen.

"We can't even scratch the surface," I commented.

Kristen looked the two of us over, embracing each other. "You two... you were a couple all along. You just hid it from us."

I smiled sadly and wiped some tears away. "We hid it from ourselves as well. It wasn't until tonight we finally discovered it." Kristen looked slightly confused, but dropped it.

"I can't leave. Not now. I have to find Antonio and Didier, and make sure they're alive, then wait for the men to abandon our camp. Things will not be okay at all, but at least we can try," Kristen said sadly.

"If you go back, the chance of you and them getting slaughtered is greater," I said.

"No, I'm not leaving. I'm staying, whether I die here tonight or not. But if I were you, I wouldn't travel North, towards Paris. I'll point them in that direction, and if you two have any shame, you'll go and turn yourselves into the law force. If you won't tell me your crime, then it must be so awful that you two should go straight to the jail cells," Kristen said bravely with anger. Her fists were shaking and her lips were pursed like she was trying not to cry.

Erik frowned, but looked as though he understood her anger. "I guess this is goodbye. We're sorry for what happened, but we can't change history."

"Goodbye, and I hope you two make the right choice," she said before walking away and disappearing. Erik and I stood in silence for a minute, then I began crying again and clung to him in a hug.

"Erik, it's our fault. We've left them orphans, and it's all our fault," I bawled quietly as I could, listening to the screams from the camp wail on.

Erik's voice stayed even, and I wondered how he didn't cry. "We can't change what's happened. All we can do is move on."

"But Estela... she's dead now. And Zachary too. But she told me something before the party, no one knew. S-she was with child," I whispered.

Erik let go of me and looked at me with surprise. "Estela was pregnant?"

I began to tear up even more. "I couldn't bear to tell that to Kristen. Estela told me that only today. She was going to announce it to everyone tomorrow."

Erik was silent and looked blank for a moment, then bent down and picked up the bag. "Let's go."

"Can't we help them at all?"

"The best we can do is to leave. Now let's go, Meg," he said with an even face and reached his hand out. I took it and we started walking away into the darkness of the night with the screams to haunt us in the background.  
>_<p>

"What do you MEAN they're not here?" Beaure spat, outraged. The man, Charles Mason, cringed back to avoid flying droplets of spit. He bit his lip.

"This here gypsy says he saw them run off that way," said Mason, pointing in a direction. The pitiful looking gypsy next to him, a rope tied around his neck, but not tightly enough to suffocate him. It was Geoffrey Eccels, and a very raggedy one at that. Geoffrey was on his knees, and was staring at the hard ground, a small trickle of blood dripping down from his cut lip.

Beaure's face was red with fury. "It took us weeks, nearly a _month_ for us to find this camp and learn they were here, and you let them _escape?"_ No one said a word. Beaure growled. "Can anyone confirm that they went South?"

"I saw them myself! They most certainly did NOT go off that way!" came a strong Spanish sounding voice through the crowd. Beaure looked in the direction and saw an angry looking tan girl, her mouth set in a growl and her eyes nearly flaming. "Yeah, I saw them myself! Towards Paris is where went!"

"Well, Monsieur Eccels? Is that where they went?" Beaure asked coolly, and Mason tightened the rope a little bit tighter. "And you'd BETTER be telling us the truth. Either we find them, or it's your neck."

Geoffrey was sweatier than he had ever been in his short life, which was saying a lot. He looked up with fear at the cold face of Beaure, to the pleading eyes of Kristen, back to the cold face. In the long-run, they both scared him, but he was more scared of Beaure. "No, I clearly saw them go off in the other direction."

Kristen's eyes were flaming. "He's lying! He's trying to set you off your tracks!" she hissed. From behind her, there appeared another young man and a Spanish little boy who was holding the hand of a girl who was pale as death with even paler hair. "Don't listen to him!"

Beaure smirked. "You seem very intent on proving your point, Mademoiselle."

"If it weren't for them, my parents and half of this camp wouldn't be dead! What greater motivator could there be?" she asked darkly.

Beaure frowned again. "I don't buy it," he said, shoving Kristen out of the way. She stumbled backwards with a look of shock upon her face, soon morphing into rage.

"I'm _trying _to help you bastards! If you would just listen to me!" she screamed as she tried to get to them, but knowing what consequences that might have held in store, her boyfriend Didier held her back. Antonio looked to Poppy with a frightened expression, and she reassuringly squeezed his hand.

"Monsieur Eccels, if you would kindly lead us on to where you saw the two run off, I would be ever so grateful as to lavish you with a handsome reward," Beaure said in a smooth tone. Geoffrey looked up, surprised.

"Re-reward?" he choked out. Beaure grinned again.

"Oh, yes. Of course! What else did you suspect we'd do?" Beaure answered. "How does the reward of 100,000 francs sound? Surely enough to begin a lavish life in Paris anew, _non?_"

Geoffrey looked around, Beaure's smooth smile, Kristen's flaming face, her broken family holding her back and staring coldly at him, and his own little brother, Tony, looking up at him, unsure what to think. Geoffrey sighed. "What about Mademoiselle Meg? You'll promise her safety?"

"Geoffrey Eccels, if you value your _life-_" Kristen began to scream before Didier covered her mouth with his hand. As she fought to regain control over her own voice, Beaure grinned.

"If that is what you wish, 100,000 francs and the safe return of Meg Giry, then yes. Now, lead us!" Beaure called out. Geoffrey began walking in the direction he though he saw them go, and ignored the screaming of Kristen behind him, and the look on his brother's face.

Once Beaure's gang was gone, Kristen swore profusely under her breath. "That little traitor..." she hissed, clenching her fists.

"What do we do, Kristen?" Antonio asked, frightened.

Kristen sighed, letting Didier's hand slide into hers gladly. "We start over."

Ahead of them, Beaure smiled for what seemed like the millionth time that night. "You can't hide from us now, we'll get you this time."

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><p><strong><em>Okay, I've just got my muse back (again) after a week or so of eating cheez-its, class assignments, watching some old Doctor Who with friends and a WHOLE lot of Danny Elfman. God, I love his music. I'm probably the brightest cheery person who loves anything involves Danny ElfmanTim Burton/Helena Bonham Carter. Johnny Depp is a plus. :) But anywho, it might be a while for the next update. I've got to get all this down and balance my social life (I've got a social life, shocking, huh?), so I hope to hear from you soon!_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	18. Love Song to a Ballerina

_**Chapter 18: Love Song To A Ballerina**_

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><p>It was early May, summer was just around the corner. We had been enjoying the warmth as we came out of spring in the camp with the Paulsons and other gypsies. Estela jokingly had warned me that some of the men would walk around nearly naked. But all of that seemed years ago. It was freezing cold, like a winter chill. My teeth chattered as Erik and I trekked on in silence through the forest.<p>

But it _did _seem like years since we had been with the gypsies. Zachary and Estela, always smiling and laughing, were dead, leaving their two children orphans and taking their unborn child with them to heaven. I knew that for a fact they were going to heaven, if there was one. I wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be saints. In reality, we had only been walking an hour or two. I was feeling drowsy, but knew that we had to keep on going, or the possibility of getting caught was even greater.

A twig snapped from behind me and my blood ran cold. I whipped my head around, but there was nothing there but the dark. I sighed and turned back around. Erik had stopped, and was staring at me. "What?" I whispered. "It's fine, it was just a twig."

"No, I'm thinking," he said, then grabbed my hand. He started walking again, with me now by his side, our hands intertwined. He must have been pondering whether to let me walk in front of him or not, and decided that this was the best option. I felt safer than I had before, but didn't say a word as we continued walking on.

I wondered if I was delusional half the time we walked. I certainly had no clue where we were going, or how long it took us. Erik kept changing direction, and at first I thought he was delusional as well. It wasn't until later that I realized he was trying to put us off the trail of Beaure and his men if on some off chance they had sniffed our direction out. We walked all night, barely speaking, through the open forest, the stars twinkling brightly, as if a huge massacre hadn't gone on in the camp that night. It might have been a gorgeous night if the clouds in our minds would clear to let us admire the beauty of it.

We caught the first glimpse of the city in the early hours of the morning, right as the sun was just rising. Erik and I had walked out of the forest into a clearing. There was a deep, wide pit in front of us, in which to our surprise, we spotted some sort of set of buildings. The sunlight had just hit them, and I was barely conscious of seeing it. I kept dozing in and out of sleep, and had at first thought I was dreaming. I fought to stay awake, but the next time I blinked, I was in a brightly sun-lit room, staring up at a wooden ceiling.

I sat up in the bed that I had no recollection of falling asleep in and looked around the room. There was a window to my direct right with only part of the glass still there. The rest had shattered, and a thick layer of dust coated the windowsill. On my wooden bed, the mattress was tough, and I had no blanket or pillow. In fact, it was a cape covering me. Upon closer inspection, it was the Phantom's.

Then it dawned on me. The night before, kissing Erik, Beaure's sudden reappearance, Zachary and Estela's murders, the flight from the camp, and seeing the city in a pit. I must've been in the city, in one of the buildings. I stood from the bed and made my way to the window. Looking down, I must have been one story up. There was a dust road in front of my brown building, and there were more buildings in front of me, a mysteriously abandoned city. There was a particular building in front of me with a sign hanging, only half nailed down. In faded red paint, it read, "Pub".

I rubbed my forehead and blinked sleepily, wondering where Erik was. He surely couldn't have gone far, especially after last night. It was about midday, two o'clock, maybe. There was a huge clock in what I supposed was the town center that I could see from here, reading 11:42, but didn't move at all. I wondered how long it had been 11:42 on the clock, and just how old this city was. It couldn't be _that _old, because someone would have found it or at least have known about it by now.

Turning my attention back to the room, I found a door. I stretched and grunted as I walked through it, scanning the outside. There was a hallway, with a staircase going down a few feet away. Farther down the hallway were another two doors. Directly across from my door was another, four rooms upstairs in total. I stepped softly into the hallway and rapped with my knuckles on the door in front of me. No answer. I turned the knob and swung the door open. There was a desk and chair, with a few loose papers covering it, and nothing more in the room. On top of the papers was dust, nearly as much as on my windowsill.

Finding nothing of my interest except for the fact that the room was strangely bare, I backed out and closed the door softly behind me. My footsteps echoed just briefly as I walked down the hallway. The walls felt like chalk when I touched them, and jagged pieces crumbled off onto my finger. I brushed it off on my tattered and torn dress which had been ruined (or at least now needed repairing) thanks to our hike in the woods away from Beaure and his men. A dark feeling came over me and I was sure my face wasn't pleasant to look at as I thought of Beaure and all the trouble he had caused us and everyone we had come into contact with.

One of the doors, the one on the left, was opened just a crack, and I slowly pushed it wider. The room looked about like mine, but a dresser and an occupant made the difference. I gasped as I spotted a body on the bed, sprawled out, my heart leaping into a steady gallop. I nearly laughed at myself as I calmed down and realized that it was only Erik, caught in a much deserved deep sleep.

I leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and what must have been a slight smile on my face as I stared at him. Erik... the man I'd known for so long as just the Phantom, now such a close person to me. Last night's memories reminded me of the startling relationship which had suddenly bloomed. Our kiss... the feel of his arms around me, it was all too perfect. But that's what the problem was, I supposed. Perfection can't last forever, and lives were taken in our name, willingly or not. The look that Kristen had given us, a cold, heartless one like I'd never seen on her spirited Spanish face before. It made my smile falter a little. I knew that nothing could be the same again, after all of that. Nothing between Erik and I, or between Beaure and the two of us, nothing. I knew now that no matter what personally happened between Erik and I, I would stop Beaure, if I had to personally stop his heart myself. I didn't know what exactly I was capable of, if I could even kill a person, but I knew that it was now his life or ours.

I tore my eyes off of Erik, feeling my stare rebound for some reason, like I shouldn't be looking at him. I closed the door quietly, as not to disturb him (though I hardly thought he'd awaken if a heard of cattle stampeded by) and backed into the hall again. The door closed with a soft thud, and I turned around. The last door stood in front of me. I supposed there was nothing behind it, just a desk or another bed, various furniture scattered, or something. But I will confess to having read too many books to not take everything into account. In books, there was always a mysterious door that was avoided, and by the time the hero or heroine got into the door, something awful was bound to or had already happened. I suppose I was being silly, but I wouldn't have been surprised of anything after all that had happened to me in the past few months. Rescuing a convict from a death sentence, running from Beaure, getting shot in the leg, more running, camping with gypsies, getting my feelings tangled up with said convict, and now this door.

With a cautious step, I reached out and took the knob in my hand. I tried twisting it, but to my utter surprise, it was locked. I must've looked pale, and I tried it a number of times after to see if I could shake it open. No such luck. Eventually, I grew frustrated, and simply gave up, walking back to my own room. I stood by the window once more, looking down to the pub and abandoned streets of the ghost town. It was no use doing anything until Erik woke up, he'd be more worried than ever now.

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><p>The only sound between the two of us was chewing our small breakfast. I was staring at the floor, only every once in a while glancing up at him. He seemed to find the crumbling walls fascinating from where he sat. I supposed we were equal in disbelief and quite frankly embarrassed. I was sure that since he had told me he loved me, and we had kissed, nothing would ever be the same between us again. I didn't know exactly why he was quiet, but I didn't blame him. I hardly wanted to be the one to bring up the subject.<p>

We sat downstairs in the building, in a little dining room, with one old-looking table and three chairs, one with a broken leg. There were cabinets in which I found a bit of china and various tins with tea in them, as well as flour, sugar, beans, and a rather moldy cake that I had tossed out the shattered window with a pinched nose. I had boiled some tea on an ancient oven that I had to actually build a fire in. I could neither hear or see a river or water source closely, so I used the water from the flask. Even my time with the gypsies hadn't made using something other than a gas oven odd. We now sat at the table, eating simple bread he had snatched from fancy china and drinking tea from ancient leaves. I wondered why the china hadn't been brought along with the other possessions of whoever had lived here long ago.

Eventually, I cleared my throat after swallowing a bit of bread. "So... what do we do now?" I asked softly.

He didn't look up. "I haven't a clue."

I cracked a half-smile as he looked up at me. "Neither I," I chuckled. "Do you have a faint idea of where we are, at least?" He shook his head, tearing off another piece from his bread and popping it into his mouth. "Listen... about last night..."

He sighed, stopping me. "Things happen, I know. Thing we know we'll regret someday happen. I should know. So if you wish, we will never speak of last night's kiss again." My eyes grew wide at his sudden misunderstanding.

"No, no, no! Of course I don't regret it!" I sighed, my eyes shrinking back to their normal size, his own golden-green ones were puzzled and staring at me for an explanation. "I would've done it again and again if I had the choice. The only thing I regret is how many lives were lost because of us. Friends, the ones we'd come to call family. No, Erik, I don't regret it. In fact, I was almost hoping..." I trailed off, hoping he'd catch my drift. He just stared back. "Hoping that we might be able to work. The two of us... together."

"Isn't it usually the male who asks the woman to court her?" Erik asked, a mischievous grin sneaking up on the visible portion of his face. I couldn't help but grin back.

"Well, I don't suppose that anything in my life is normal anymore. So what do you say, then, _Mademoiselle _Erik? Could I have the honor of courting you?" I joked.

"It would be my pleasure, _Monsieur," _he chuckled back.

I sighed, sinking my head into my elbows on the table, my happy mood disappearing quickly. "What would my mother think of this?" Erik's smile faded suddenly. He was silent for a moment.

"I suppose you'll find out as soon as we shake Beaure off. I'm not sure how, or if we'll ever find him again. If we don't encounter him again, I'd say we wait two or three months. Our story will fade, or at least, we won't be France's most wanted man and woman anymore," he said.

"It's quite exhilarating, this life on the run," I commented. "It's a nice thought that we'll never encounter Beaure again, but I know that wasn't the last of him we'll see. He's bound to be furious now, and he's got his mind fixated not only upon the treasure more than ever, but also upon us. You was how freely he let his men take lives back there. He'll be more alert than ever. I don't know if we'll ever even see Paris again."

"I suppose we just have to wait and see." Erik said in a quiet mumble. There was silence between us for a few moments. I suddenly pushed back my chair and stood up, the china clattering as I used the table to support me up.

"Well, there's no point in staying sad for too long, too much to find out, to explore," I declared. "Finish your breakfast, Erik, we're going to find out where the hell we are."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Not even a please?"

A walked over to him and with a blush placed a kiss on his cheek. "Nope. Finish your breakfast and get changed. We're going exploring." With that, I cleared the table, placing the dishes in a sink I doubted still drew water, and hopped upstairs in a giddy mood to get changed.

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><p>If my feet could talk, they'd be cursing me. An odd thought for a lady, but the groan that I emitted as I pulled my boots off wasn't very ladylike either. I flopped onto my bed, sighing. We'd explored for hours, and weren't any closer to discovering where we were than we had this morning. The sun was setting now, and I was tired enough to sleep in my day-clothes again. But I knew that would be the last straw and every ounce of femininity would for sure be gone if I did that much. So reluctantly, I slipped out of my dress and pulled on the only nightgown I had brought. I supposed I'd be having to do a lot of laundry, and Erik a lot of hunting if we were going to get by for at least two months.<p>

I was just about to crash onto my bed when I heard music. I thought I had gone insane, but I heard _music. _The piano, to be exact. I was a bit shocked at first, wondering who it could be. Then I remembered, Erik could practically do anything. Down in the Phantom's lair, I remembered seeing an organ, he must've known how to play. But where had he found a piano?

I reached for my boots and pulled them over my protesting feet, swinging my door open and skipping downstairs. It was outside of the house. My boots trod over the dirt road as I walked towards the Pub that had been outside my window. The music seemed to be emanating from there. The doors to it were open, and I stepped in, my boots creaking on the wood. I don't think Erik noticed, he was so engrossed in his music. The Pub was dusty, like everything in this ghost of a town, with some wooden tables tipped over. There were a few beer mugs sitting on the counter, but there was some shattered glass on the floor as well. One glass still held some old beer. There was no white paper with black stains covering it in front of Erik, no music to follow. I wondered if what he played was memorized or if he made it up on the spot. It was a faster song, using mostly the lower half of the piano, though a few higher notes made their way in. He finished with multiple notes that sounded very good together. I wasn't sure if this was a technical term, because I wasn't all that good with music, only dancing.

I clapped as he took his hands from the black and white keys and he turned around, a surprised look on his face. I couldn't help laughing and grinned at him. "You should see your face just about now," I giggled. "But it really was lovely."

He smiled a little. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. If I'd known you were listening, I would've played something better."

I stopped clapping and walked over to him, taking a seat next to him on the long bench. "If I'd known you were playing, I would've come to listen sooner."

Erik shrugged. "Not my best work.. I wrote it back when I was still a nasty teenage child, full of anger and moods. Not that I've changed much, I suppose." My eyes grew wide.

"You composed that when you were a _teenage boy?_" I asked incredulously. He shrugged.

"Like I said, not my best."

"But it was fantastic! Some old men couldn't compose something so... powerful? I don't even know how to describe it! Words can't explain it!" I went on, plunking a few of the low notes.

"Thank you," he said, two words he'd gotten much more used to. "Would you like me to play more?" I'm sure my eyes were sparkling.

"Oh, yes, please!" I smiled. He gave me a half-smile back and turned to the piano. He shifted his rump over a little to the higher section of the piano and began to play something completely different. Light, airy, completely full of grace. I'm sure I must've looked like a complete fool, my mouth hanging open and the works. It was slow, but soft. Could music be soft? I supposed it was one way of describing the repetitious notes. It for sure wasn't anything as powerful and difficult like the last song, but it's simplicity was what made it beautiful.

When he finished, I found myself wrapping my arms around him in a hug. "That was gorgeous," I said quietly, unsure of why I was whispering.

"I thought you might like it," he said, equally quiet back.

"I'd enjoy anything you'd play," I said, pulling back from the hug and quickly pressing a surprise kiss to his lips. I quickly pulled back, blushing, and he looked down at me, his face glowing with a smirk on it.

"Well, then," he said with an air of triumph that made me blush deeper. "If I knew you'd like piano music so much, I would've composed much more than what I already have just for that." I bit my tongue and smiled, smacking his shoulder lightly.

"S_e taire_," I laughed as he put his arm around me, drawing me closer to him. He reached for the keys around my waist. "I wonder why this piano was just left here, with some other various things."

"Quite the mystery, isn't it?" he said, beginning to play another song quietly, more in the middle of the piano this time.

"Have you noticed the room directly across the hallway from your own?" I asked, snuggling close to his warm body, the slight fragrance of smoke from yesterday's party still lingering on him. "It's locked, and there's no key. What do you think's in there?"

"Probably nothing," he said with no interest whatsoever in his voice. "None of the other rooms have locks on them, so that must've been someone older, like the parent's, bedroom, if this was the house of a family. I suppose it looks about the same as the other rooms."

"Yes, probably nothing," I repeated, listening to the music. When the song was done, Erik held me tighter to him, and I sighed dreamily. My tiredness was coming back, and I tried hard to fight it as long as I could.

"Do you think I'll ever see Maman again?" I asked softly as a new tune began playing.

"I don't know, Meg," he answered and it was quiet again. I yawned and my eyelids began to droop.

"She must be worried terribly..." I said quietly, and began to drift off, the only sound music playing. The next thing I remembered, it was dark, and a pair a strong hands held me close, holding me bridal-style. We were walking up a staircase, and then walked into a room. Erik placed me down on my bed.

"I..." I began to say drowsily, but Erik silenced me in a way that made me forget what I was about to say. He pulled his lips up from mine and brushed some hair away from my face.

"Sh... go to sleep, Meg," he whispered.

"Good... night," I mumbled and began to fall asleep again. He left the room and gently shut the door, and I let darkness and sleep consume me.

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><p><strong><em>I have a LOT to say this time, so please bear with me and read this note!<em>**

**_ The song that Erik played for Meg before she kissed him is called Love Song To A Ballerina (which inspired the title of this chapter, as you can see). The title fit perfectly, and it really is a beautiful song. I encourage you to look it up on YouTube. The pianist who plays it is named George Winston. And anyone who wanted to scream at Meg that "multiple notes that sounded very good together" is called a chord, than I'm sorry Meg's obliviousness disturbed you. :) _**

**_Speaking of Youtube, if any of you are interested, I just posted my first Erik/Meg fanvideo! *Girly shriek!* Ahem... anywho, if any of you are dying to watch it, there's a link on my Fanfiction profile. Please let me know what you think of it!_**

**_Also, have any of you seen/going to see the 25th Anniversary PotO movie? I'm going on Tuesday with some friends, and I'm so flipping excited! :D I heard that Ramin Karimloo *Another girly shriek* is playing the Phantom, and half my friends who are going have never even seen the movie! This should be an excellent surprise for them! _**

**_Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for bearing with me!_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	19. Say Goodbye

_**Chapter 19: Say Goodbye**_

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><p>It was at breakfast the following morning that we both realized our bread wouldn't last much longer, and the flask of water was now completely dry. We both began nibbling on out bread sparingly, and I bit my tongue so I didn't complain of my thirst. Erik pushed back his chair and stood. "I think I should go off to find food. Look through the abandoned houses and see if there's anything we could use. In the worst case, I'll go hunting for meat."<p>

"I suppose that will work," I said, remaining sitting, my piece of bread only half finished.

"You stay in the house and I'll be back to hopefully make preparations for a meager lunch," he said, taking up his coat from the chair. He was already dressed, and I felt awfully silly in comparison with my messy unbrushed hair and rumpled clothing from the previous day.

"Is there anything I could do to help? I'd feel awfully useless just sitting around all day," I said, standing up and placing the bread on the table. I didn't want to spend my day doing nothing and knowing that Erik was trying to find enough food for us to eat. Also, the gnawing feeling that Beaure was still on our tail was killing me; I needed something to completely turn my focus away from it.

"I could... could come with you! I really wouldn't mind helping search for food-" I began to suggest, but he had already made his way over to me, cutting me off in a manner that made speech both quite unwanted and impossible. The words flushed out of my brain as thoughts normally did when he kissed me, and he pulled back up with a smirk.

"Stay here, and stay out of trouble," he smirked. I almost thought about smacking the smirk off his face, something that Kristen had done whenever Didier had gotten a little too sarcastic or rude. The memory brought a small grin to my face, and I supposed Erik took it as my good humor. He pulled his coat a little tighter, grabbed the bag that once held our things, but still held our food and money, and walked out of the room and the half-hinged door.

Still a little stunned from the surprise kiss that had left me speechless, I plopped back down in my chair and began to nibble at my bread. I hoped Erik would find something good, at least, better than dusty beans that I would as a last resort boil for lunch. I tapped my fingers rhythmically on the table as I chewed the slightly stale bread. Boiling would be awfully tough without water, I thought to myself. If our flask was stone-dry, then how could we make anything?

That's when the idea struck me, and I stopped right in mid-chew. Maybe I could be of some use, after all. I could go out and try to find some source of water, a stream, or more likely a lake. I imagined a lake would be more likely, based on the fact that it was silent during the night, and I never heard any sort of water sloshing around in a stream. Upon reflection, I had been a bit of the helpless damsel in distress during Erik and my misadventures. I was the one who had to be carried to the hospital when I was so dumbly shot in the leg and fell off a rooftop, and the one was tongue-tied coming up with a cover-up story while introducing ourselves to the gypsies, and the one who had to be looked after our whole time running from being captured and certain death. In all, I was seemly a bit useless as a woman. It was time to prove my worth.

I bit my lip. Erik wouldn't be happy I'd disobeyed him. Maybe it was for the best that I instead stayed here, as he'd told me. Maybe I'd pluck a song or two out on the piano or try my luck with the locked room. With a sigh, I finished up my bread with a heavy inner debate in my mind. In the end, staying in the home would be the smartest option. Erik wouldn't have to lecture me on how I could've gotten lost or something that made me feel like I was ten years old.

Instead, I decided that to satisfy my apparently vast curiosity for everything, I would search the house for a key. I wasn't a particularly strong girl, a ballerina, yes, but not strong. I certainly wasn't delicate, but I didn't suppose I could just break down the door. So I bound up the stairs and began searching my own quarters. I tried under the bed, around the windowsill, anywhere. But there wasn't much to work with in the room, and I moved on to the one with the desk and papers next.

The room was brightly lit, with the late-morning sun streaming in and coating the room with a warm glow. I found myself smiling at the cheerfulness of the room, and brought my eyes to rest upon the scattered papers. They looked different from the last time I saw them, a little neater, and I supposed that Erik had rummaged through them yesterday. A few lay in a messy pile on the floor, a larger pile was stacked on the desk, and more yet were scattered across the room, blown by the breeze from the slightly open window.

I walked over to one and bent to pick it up. Bringing myself back up to full height, I examined it. It was a full sheet of paper, but only had a few words scribbled across it. It read:

_Jake,_

_Afraid you're right. Have wife and kids out soon. Don't know how long it will take to break. Better safe than sorry._

_-Pierre _

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. A note to a friend, it looked like. The words were quickly scribbled, like someone was in a hurry to post this or deliver it. I decided that it was curious, but of no importance to me. As I rummaged through the other papers, it was always addressed to Jake, and signed Pierre. I suppose they must have been close friends or family, but the most interesting thing was that the letters were always about some kind of dam, or about some kind of danger, and to quickly leave. I wondered if I was going in any sort of correct or incorrect order, but I seemed to get the basic plot.

At least I knew that at one time, the ghost-town was inhabited. There was (much to my misfortune) no date upon the letters, which would have been a great help. I was no detective, so I couldn't decide when it was sent, or even remotely what dam or danger they were talking of.

I was about to leave the room, more confused then when I had stepped in, when I spotted a sudden glimmer in the corner of my eye. I turned around quickly, looking for what could have caused the sudden flash, and spotted none other that what must have been the long lost key in the left corner of the room. I let out a cry of surprise and dashed over, picking the brass thing up.

It certainly didn't seem that old, at least to me, and it still shone in the sun. It was a simple key, nothing too spectacular, but I didn't give much time to admiring it. I was much too giddy to try it on the locked door down the hallway. In a flash, I was out of the room and fitting the key into the mysterious door. I was biting my lip down, and possibly was trying to make the moment as memorably dramatic as possible. I slowly turned the key and felt it click in the lock. I grinned. It fit! The door creaked as I opened it, and I had no clue what could be hiding inside...

Much to my disappointment, there was nothing much. Just another bed, stripped of sheets, blanket and pillow, accompanied by a side-table with a shabby-looking lamp on top. I sighed at my over-dramatic thoughts of what might be in the room besides what was in the others. I crossed my arms, sighed, and plopped down on the bed.

I jumped up at once, however, when the sound of crinkling paper under my rump startled me. I looked down at where I had been sitting and snatched the paper. It was written with a dull pencil, and read as follows:

_Meg Giry:_

_For pity's sake, come down to the dam at once! Tell no one where you are going, or it might cost lives. Trust me, Meg._

I stood speechless for a moment, and dropped the paper back onto the bed. It was completely beyond me _how _a note had gotten into the locked room. It was unsigned, and I had no clue where this famous dam everyone was talking about was. I felt myself stumbling back and had to catch myself on the wall to hold me up. The mysterious room was _certainly _proving to be more mysterious than I could have ever imagined. I cursed myself for being so weak, and tried breathing slowly to calm myself down. Once I was sure of my balance, I walked back over to the paper and picked it back up.

First thing was first, who could know my name out here? It was unsigned, and gave me no clue. Erik, but he could never have written this, it wouldn't make sense. Then there were the gypsies, but they wouldn't have come out here just to leave me a note. Beaure? I hoped with all my heart it wasn't him. He couldn't have written that, either. It was shaky handwriting, something of a child's. My heart froze for a second. A child... was there a child in danger?

I felt like screaming, or just leaving the note and never gaze upon it again. But I couldn't do that, so I did the most logical thing I thought I could do, run to Erik and tell him. While I nearly streaked down the staircase and out of the house, I realized I had no clue what house he was in. But I had to try. I ran across the left half of the town looking around, and made it towards the end of the ditch the city was built in. Suddenly, I saw it.

Inside the huge forest of trees, there was a glimpse of a huge wall, concrete and wood and dirt, all piled together to create a giant dam. The dam... the dam that was so famous amongst any sort of letter-writer. It was also a source of water that I could use. I bit my lip, weighing my options. A child might need me, though how a child got up to the second story of an abandoned building in a locked door to leave me a note was beyond me. I supposed I wasn't thinking completely straight, because before I knew it, I was scrambling to get up out of the pit and up to the dam.

It took me about ten minutes to climb up, out, and towards the dam, but I eventually made it to the famous thing. From a distance, it looked as a complete whole, but now, up close with it, I could see why Pierre who had written the letters was scared of it. Unsteady would be a tame word, and it looked as if it was about to burst. I wasn't sure how large the body of water that was kept behind it was, but I knew that if that dam was to break, there was a chance that with enough force, the whole city could be flooded.

I now knew why it had been evacuated, leaving a few things behind; Fear for this unsafe dam. It still didn't answer the question of who had been in the locked room and who had left the note addressed to me. So I began to look around. "Hello?" I called out, softly at first. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

"Meg," a voice purred and I froze. I might have groaned if I had not been so terrified. "So nice of you to get our little note, isn't it, Geoffrey?"

I whipped myself around and gasped, nearly screaming out. There was Beaure, standing not four feet away from me, with Geoffrey standing shakily beside him, one eye swollen and half-closed, various cuts, scrapes, and bumps covering him, and it seemed his right leg was barely holding up. But the worst part was the eye that was open. It was so wide with terror and fear, a tortured gaze full of regret and horror, a completely horrendous stare. He looked like he wanted to die.

Geoffrey was attached to a rope around his neck like an animal, and Beaure was holding the other end cheerily. The emotion Beaure was showing on his face was complete and utter smugness. He looked completely satisfied with the number of people who were staring at him in terror, and was even grinning. If it weren't for the menacing look in his eyes, I might've thought he was in a whimsical mood.

"Oh, my God, Geoffrey," I gasped out, trying not to yell. One yell is all it would take for the rope to tighten around his neck. I didn't yet see how I was going to escape this one.

"I've done everything you could've wanted, Beaure," Geoffrey said in a weak, hateful voice with such passion that I had never heard from the sweaty boy before. "I've been chained up like an animal, sniffed them out for you, even ate your scraps like a damn hound. It's time to pay your end of the bargain. Let her and I go free. Take this Phantom, torture him and kill him, but let us go free."

I took a sharp intake of breath. Geoffrey had betrayed us? It must have shown on my face, because Beaure looked over and laughed. "Oh, yes! This young man was EAGER to sell you two out. You should've seen the look on his face as he realized that he had also signed lives of his own filthy homeless gypsies away. Of course, it was all driven by _LOVE, _so isn't this just so romantic? This boy, Geoffrey, is willing to betray his whole camp AND you to keep you safe."

I turned to Geoffrey. "You? You told him about us during Antonio's fiesta?" I whispered furiously.

Geoffrey looked miserable. "I didn't know he wouldn't keep the end of his deal! It's just... I was so in love with you, Meg! And I saw the way that man, the criminal was looking at you. I couldn't stand it, and this man says that he's looking for a man of just that description. What else was I to do?"

I wanted so badly to forgive him, but I just couldn't, and felt hatred towards the poor creature. "How could you?"

"I'm sorry!" he yelled. "But please, if Beaure will let us run free, we could run away together, live in Paris, forget everything! Please, Meg, please."

I found myself looking between Beaure and Geoffrey. Beaure had shrugged when I stared at him. "If you want to live, then by all means, go live with him. I'll set you two free." It only took a few moments time for me to shakily sigh and answer.

"You know I wouldn't leave the Phantom for the world. I'm sorry. Let Geoffrey go, it's the two of us that you really want," I answered with a glare. Suddenly, there was a spark in Beaure's eyes and a look of purely insane rage grinned at me.

"It's one or the other, missy, and you've just chosen! Say goodbye to him, Meg!" Beaure said cheerfully, suddenly tightening the rope in a flash. I felt a hot wave of fear cover over me and I couldn't help but scream as I watched Geoffrey's utterly shocked face begin to choke out his breaths.

"Oh, my God! Stop! You're killing him!" I shrieked, so shocked I couldn't move. Beaure just grinned as Geoffrey's face turned blue.

"That's the point, Meg Giry!" he laughed and I watched in horror and Geoffrey's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his lifeless body collapsed on the ground. I screamed and I'm pretty sure I had to use a tree to support myself. Geoffrey lay down, never to move again. It was all I could to from fainting, really. When Joseph Buquet was strung above my head, it was less traumatizing than this. At least the man wouldn't have been missed so much. With Geoffrey, the man sure didn't make the best decisions, but had a little brother, and a whole loving camp to miss him. He was innocent, and now he lay, murdered before my very eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Beaure was suddenly close, wrapping an arm around my waist and drawing me close to him. I should have bit his hand as he ran it along my chin almost lovingly. I tried to break free from his grip, but it was useless. "Meg," he purred. "We could do the exact opposite of what the boy suggested. We can forget about the Phantom, and go back to Paris together. We could be rich, powerful, and I'll spare the Phantom's life if you'll only just tell me where the treasure is. No more deaths, no more pain, just you and me, and a hell of a lot of money. What do you say, does that sound reasonable?"

I was revolted by his words, even with his soothing voice. I should have clawed his eyes out, being that close to him. "Of course not! I love him, and wouldn't betray or abandon him for the world!"

Beaure's face came very close to mine, almost touching. "Meg... how could you love such a man who can't even get a proper home because he's a convict on the run? Stay with me..."

I supposed he had it coming. In fact, I would've done it over and over again if given the chance. He deserved the good, hard slap I planted on his face, and I hoped I had made it extra painful. But the next thing after that, his face was suddenly away from mine, red, and very much angry with me.

"Damn women! Never know what to do for their own good. That was your last chance, Meg Giry, so now I get to have the pleasure of killing BOTH of you," Beaure hissed at me and grabbed me by the hair. I shrieked, the pain of being pulled along by my lovely golden hair overwhelming. I had no choice but to follow and scream in case Erik could hear me, but Beaure quickly silenced me by tying a cloth over and through my mouth. I fought with all my might, but he had a tough grip, and it brought tears to my eyes trying to pull my hair away.

I didn't even know where we were going until suddenly, it was darker. I opened my eyes. I hadn't been in this building before. There were metal bars on the wide, open doors inside, and to my shocking realization, I found it was a jail. Beaure had grabbed a key out of his pocket and grinned as we stopped at a cell. "What, you didn't think we were staying in the woods, did you?" He opened a cell and flung me in. I tripped and caught myself with my hands before I could smack head-first into the hard concrete floor. As I turned, he was just locking the door and grinning.

With sudden rage that I had rarely before experienced, I tried to grab hold of Beaure and the keys, anger pumping through my blood. This made Beaure grin wider. "Aw, is wittle Meg angwy with Geowgie?"

"Give me the keys, you monster!" I screamed, tears now falling in anger.

"Not yet," Beaure said, walking out the door. "All in good time..." I saw him exit into the shadows and shrieked once more for good measure. Breathing heavily, rage quickly morphed into fear and sadness. Tears began to flow freely as I let my emotions loose for the first time in a while. Tears fell for everything, for my mother who I didn't know was alive or dead, for Kristen's family, half of them slaughtered because of me, all the gypsies, and now Geoffrey. Maybe it was for the better that my life was ended before any more were.

And for Erik. Dear, dear Erik. My Erik. He would be worried sick about me, would come looking and fall into some kind of trap. I couldn't warn him, I didn't even know what Beaure had planned. I knew that there wasn't an escape this time, whatever it was, however. This was the end, and now I figured that maybe it was better this way, with me dead. Even with that thought, it didn't ease the pain, and the rest of the day I cried myself dry.

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><p><em><strong>Not the most cheerful of chapters, was it? : On a bit brighter of things, I found an artist who sings EXACTLY like how I picture Meg! How I picture her is like in the movie, but older and more powerful, not as ditzy and oblivious. Anywho, this Meg that I've pictured has been vocalized by **Méav Ní Mhaolchatha**. One heck of a name, one heck of a voice. I just picked up a whole ton of CDs and books, including a Christmas Special Celtic Woman CD. When I heard her voice, my jaw just about dropped to the floor. This is the EXACT voice I pictured. I HIGHLY encourage you to look her up, esspecially her version of The Wexford Carol, it's for sure my favorite! :P**_

_**Also, did anyone go see the 25th Anniversary PotO? What was your opinion of it?**_

_**Best Wishes,**_

_**Aktress.**_


	20. Last Moments

_**Chapter 20: Last Moments**_

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><p>It was hours before I saw another human being, and I had began wondering if Beaure had left me to rot. Erik would eventually find me and let me free. He'd find some way to get the bars open. Surely Beaure had thought of that idea, and wouldn't let anything so simple happen. He had something more devious planned, I could tell. Calling out for Erik would bring him here, yes, but there must be some kind of trap waiting for him, so I was as silent as I could be. My anger and panic had long since passed, and I waited for something to happen in silence, the only sounds were the nature outside and my own breathing. My throat was beginning to ache, though, completely dry and rough. I kept trying to swallow to preserve what little water was left in my body, but each time I did, it felt like tree sap going down. I was trying to think of a way that I could dig a hole out like some people did in books when I heard the door slam against the wall, causing me to jump nearly a foot in the air and directing my attention to the man rushing into the room.<p>

Erik, wide-eyed and panting, clutched one hand to the prison bars and breathed heavily for a moment. In shock, I didn't move for a few seconds, just watching the man stand there and breath. Eventually I came to my senses and stood up, walking directly over to Erik. "Erik, where is he? Did you kill him?"

"No... he said... he said he... had you... captive and... would bargain for your freedom," Erik said between breaths. I frowned.

"Bargaining for my life? What kind of sick twisted...?" I trailed off, watching another figure enter the room. "Behind you," I muttered quietly. Erik twisted around to face Beaure's grinning face.

"Isn't this great? Everyone's reunited again!" Beaure said cheerfully.

"What do you want for her?" Erik growled while still catching his breath. I wondered why Beaure wasn't out of breath if he had gotten there just moments after Erik.

"So now we begin the debating, it's just like we're at an auction, huh?" Beaure replied. "It's a rather dangerous auction though, I'm afraid. And just so you don't try anything ridiculous..." Beaure pulled a revolver out of his coat pocket . "...this might come in handy. I've also got a man outside on a horse, and his gun is locked and loaded as well."

Erik just scowled at him. Beaure continued on. "You know, it would be so much easier to negotiate if you were in there, and I'm pretty sure your darling Meg is itching to be next to you again." Beaure kept his gun pointed at Erik and slowly made his way over to my bars. He unlocked it, and gave me a look that meant if I tried to make a break for it, it'd cost my life. I kept my mouth shut. Erik, still scowling at him, backed into the cell. As Erik made his way in, Beaure cracked a grin and locked the door again, lowering the gun. Erik didn't look at me, but kept his blazing eyes on Beaure. The man outside of the bars sighed and leaned casually against the opposite wall, the grin still plastered on his face.

"You know, when I used to work with the gendarme, I used to chase after people like myself. I locked up people who murdered for wealth, but now I understand. Not only do they usually win in the end, but it's also quite fun. I never knew what I'd been missing out on!" Beaure chuckled a little bit. "Before I kill you both, however, you know what I want."

Erik and I were both silent. Beaure's grin faded and he looked slightly irritated. "How do I get down into your cave?"

"You went down once, figure it out yourself," Erik snapped. Beaure's eyes sparkled, but he didn't smile.

"I feel like we've been through this once before, is it necessary to repeat history?" Beaure asked.

"No, it's not. And this feeling awfully familiar, you confronting us in the worst of times."

"What if I said that I'd shoot you on the spot if you didn't tell me?" Beaure asked, his gaze flitting to the gun held loosely in his hand.

"Oh, but you wouldn't. What fun would that be? You need me alive to tell you the way."

"Meg could just as easily direct me down."

"But she's wouldn't."

"Then maybe I should just end _her_ life."

"What makes you think that I would give you the treasure after shooting her?"

Beaure growled. "I wouldn't mind going to find the treasure myself and risk getting caught in a trap knowing that you're both dead, I could shoot you both right here and be satisfied."

Erik with his always sharp wit stung back, "Ah, but where's the fun in that? It seems a little anti-climatic to me. You forget that I'm a murderer too, I know what you want. Shouldn't you torture us in some way after all the trouble we've caused?"

Beaure was silent, but began to grin again. "You're right. You're absolutely right, Monsieur Phantom. What would be the fun in that? I hope you didn't underestimate me, of course I saw this coming. So I have a plan, and before I _do _kill you, I think I'll torture you by filling you in."

Erik crossed his arms and didn't speak.

Beaure chuckled a little. "It involves little Meg's mother, and I daresay she'll only outlive her child for a short time."

I suppose my silence must have been mistaken for fear, or being stunned. On the contrary, my mind had been racing the whole time. Erik had the money with him, it wasn't underneath the Opera anymore at all. No matter what, Beaure would be on a wild goose chase. It was the mention of my mother that had brought me back to reality, and I locked my surprised expression on Beaure. "What?"

Beaure looked like he enjoyed this very much. "Oh yes, you heard me right. Well, I suppose I'm being a bit dramatic. I'm going to kill both of you, and after that, make sure your mother is imprisoned. I highly doubt she'll make it half a year, given her age, however."

I stepped straight up to the bars, squeezing each of my hands around one. "Whatever you're doing, my mother isn't part of this, you leave her alone!"

"Can't I explain? It'll be so much more fun if you know what the epilogue to your death will be," Beaure said cheerfully. I didn't answer, but I could feel my heart beating, blood pumping through my body twice the speed it normally did. "Thank you. So here's the plan: One, I kill you both after you stubbornly sign your lives away for keeping your silly secret. Two, my men and I ride back to Paris and place Madame Giry under arrest under the charges of conversing with France's two most wanted criminals. Of course, I'll keep it quiet at first, and bargain with her. She leads me down to the lair and shows me where the money is hidden, I spare her life. If not, which she most likely will not, because she's probably a stubborn ape like her daughter and friend, then we take her to court. Madame is found guilty, off to jail for the rest of her short, miserable life. The trial's set for May 11th, if your spirits wish to attend."

"Leave her alone!" I yelled, my grip on the bars tightening. "You selfish-"

Erik placed his hand on my shoulder and I stopped, knowing that I was loosing control of myself. I bit my lip but glared at the devil who just grinned back. "And if she's not found guilty?"

"Oh, she will. I have my ways."

"And now I suppose you're going to shoot us."

Beaure scoffed like it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. "Shoot you? Are you kidding? I shot a bunch of filthy gypsies a few days ago. At least I got to strangle the man today, that was a nice change. But those methods are _so_ typical. You two really caused me trouble, don't you think you deserve more than a quick little bullet through your head? No, I've got something much bigger planned."

"Cut the dramatics and tell us what it is," Erik growled, his grip on my shoulder tightening. I didn't trust myself to speak and kept my lip firmly bit.

"Fine, you've convinced me," Beaure grinned his revoltingly handsome grin. "I'm going to _drown _you! How much fun is that?"

Erik frowned, trying to comprehend what Beaure's death sentence had meant. However, I knew perfectly well what he meant and paled. "What the devil do you mean by that?"

"It's a lake, Erik," I explained, staring at the wall. "A lake, dammed up. Beaure led me there, he killed Geoffrey. That's why the people left this place. The town is built in a dry lake bed, and when the dam comes down, so does the town with us inside."

"Give the girl a prize!" Beaure cheered. "At least we've got one person with sense around here! It's such a shame I have to kill you both. Now, I may seem like the villain, but I'll give you one last chance. Will you-"

"You damned well know the answer!" Erik growled loudly.

Beaure shrugged. "Fine! Don't say I never gave anyone a second chance." With a quick turn, Beaure walked down the hallway and exited the building for the last time. "_Allons-y, Daniels!"_

I heard a horse whiny, then race away, the sounds of hooves beating fading slowly. I didn't move, my hands still clutching the bars. What was the point in moving? I was going to drown within the hour, anyway. Erik, however, was surprisingly active. "We've gotten this far, we can't just stop now. There's got to be a way out, there's always a way out. It'll take more than a bit of water to stop us. Now if I could just..." I turned around, crossing my arms and leaning against the bars.

"Erik," I muttered.

He was pacing the floor now, talking to himself, it looked like. "... but that wouldn't work. Damn it, if I just had a shovel..."

"Erik," I spoke a bit louder.

"... there's also a window, but the fact that it's barred up doesn't help us much. However, if we could-"

"_Erik!_"

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. I sighed. "Erik, it's done. We've been fighting him for a few months now. It's felt like years to me, and I'm tired. I'm sick and tired of it all. We're going to die anyway, why waste our energy?"

"If there's any chance of getting out and saving you then I'm going to try," he said sharply, turning back around towards the windows and gripping the bars. He began to shake them as if they would come loose.

"It's no use," I said glumly.

Erik turned to face me, the visible part of his face red with frustration. "I'm the Phantom of the opera, and I'm not going to drown in a dirty little jail cell!"

"You weren't always so apposed to the idea of dying in a jail," I pointed out, slumping my back against the wall, gravity dragging me down to sit on the floor.

"That was before you changed my mind, so you can thank yourself for this," he said, angrily kicking the wall with a grunt.

"Just stop," I said quietly. "Can we just enjoy our last moments together?"

Erik stopped kicking the wall and walked over to me, holding out his hand. I took it and he pulled me upright so I was standing. "Marguerite Giry, these are not our last moments together. If you would stop being so dramatic for half a moment than we might be able to escape. I've escaped from prison before, I can do it again."

I frowned. "I'm tired, Erik. Tired of everything. I'd rather die here with you than starving somewhere in the forest or some remote place, watching each other die. I just want it to end here, in this moment with you."

I watched Erik's frustrated expression grow softer. "Dear God... we're switching personalities. I'm not good for you, Meg."

"I don't care," I said, crushing my lips down onto his. It was different than the soft kiss I had come to know and crave, more desperate and passionate. Needless to say, it seemed like Erik had forgotten the impossible idea of escaping. But after a moment, he pushed away from me harshly. I looked up, surprised.

"Damn it, Meg! You're distracting me from the real importance here," he said with a sigh. "Now help me try and loosen these bars."

As Erik began trying to break the rusted bars down, I felt my heart breaking a little bit. He'd rather try and fail escaping than spend his last moments with me. Was it selfish of me that I was a bit angry with him?

"Your fascination with trying to escape is just going to kill us anyway." I mumbled.

"At least I'm_ trying,_" Erik sighed back.

"Is it so much to ask for me to die in your arms?"

Erik turned around, the fire of the Phantom burning again in his eyes. It had been there lately so much, that I wasn't sure if I was terrified or intrigued by it. "Frankly, yes. If you haven't noticed, this moment is hardly sentimental or romantic. Do not expect that of me right now!"

To be completely honest, I was a little shocked, and didn't know what to make of his outburst. He sighed again, the fire dying a little. "If you won't do it for the sake of us, then do it for your mother. If we can escape, we can hurry to Paris before your mother is condemned."

I was silent. I had been thinking about my mother. If she was put into a cell, she wouldn't last very long. Unless we miraculously intervened, she would have to fight without a paid lawyer, and would most likely be found guilty. If we didn't even try, then everything we had been fighting for, keeping everyone alive, would have been for nothing. It would be our fault we were both dead, as well as my mother's death, and all those gypsies in Kristen's camp. I looked up at Erik, who had stopped looking at me and was focusing his attention on the jail cell bars and trying to shake them. This wasn't the Phantom that would do anything for the love of Christine, or Erik, the poor deformed man who only wanted to be loved. This was a new creature that I had lent a hand in sculpting. A determined, kind man, who found someone who loved him back. He changed for me, but this wasn't the way I should change for him.

Standing up with a new flame burning in my heart, I faced Erik, who glanced curiously over at me. "What can I do to help?"

Erik's eyes lit up, and he took me by surprise into a close embrace, the kiss startling me a little. After we broke away, I noticed his mask was missing, and it must have fallen off in the kiss without either off us really caring or noticing. "It really is a shame, I'm going to miss that when we're dead."

"We're not going to die," Erik replied, pulling me closer and chuckled.

"What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking. The last time I was an inmate, I was welcoming to death. Now that I'm back in prison and death is staring us in the face, I'd do anything to live."

"Well, last time, you weren't nearly this intimate with anyone," I pointed out.

"We're intimate inmates now, huh?" he smirked.

"That had quite a nice ring to it," I beamed. After a moment, I pushed him away again. "But you're right, we're wasting time. What's your plan? You've been tugging at those bars ever since Beaure left."

He got a sudden sparkle to his eye, most likely from remembering we were under a ticking time bomb. "Ah, yes. I was observing how old these bars look. Rust coats them from years of wearing down, even though the citizens abandoned this place only recently. I was thinking that if we could shake them hard enough, we could get them loose."

"And you're sure it'll work?" I inquired. A fraction of a smile crossed his face.

"Not in the least."

"Well, that complicates matters a bit. Nevertheless-" Suddenly, I heard a rush of water from outside. My heart nearly stopped. "Hurry!"

As water began trickling in, I began shaking with all my might, but without much result. Erik was grunting as he pulled at them, and I thought I saw one loosen up. But it wasn't enough to get us out. Things were certainly not looking good, and I could picture the smug look on Beaure's face as he watched the dry lake fill up once more, capturing us within.

I gasped for as water burst in through the barred window, the height shooting up shockingly quick. My heart began pounding again and my focus became blurry in panic. I didn't want to die, I wasn't ready for this. "Don't stop shaking the bars!"

Erik didn't seem to hear me over the rush of water, but was focused on both swimming and loosening the bars of the jail cell. I had to start swimming, my feet not being able to touch the ground any longer. Erik was still standing, but would have to swim any moment too. I suddenly heard the grind of metal on cement and looked to him with surprise. He mirrored my look of shock. "They're looser when they get wet!" My heart began pounding. There was hope yet that we'd make it out of the cell. The water was warm and quite dirty, and I tried my hardest not to get it in my mouth, and was quiet, but focused on breathing and not sinking.

Within the last few inches of air, leaving us both gasping, I faintly heard Erik call out. "Whatever you do, don't let go of me and keep swimming!" Then we were both under. I grabbed at his arm, and clung to it tightly. Suddenly, I was jolted to the left, and heard the grinding again, for a longer period of time. I dared not open my eyes, I hadn't swam often and didn't know if the dirt would impair my vision. Nonetheless, I came to the conclusion that he had tore one of the bars from it's place.

Suddenly, I felt my foot get caught on something. Erik tugged and tugged, but it wouldn't free itself. My lungs felt like a searing hot kettle had been pressed to them and burned for air. My mind was racing, torn between my faith in Erik and the panicking feeling that I was about to loose consciousness. I was dizzy, and thrashed to get my foot loose. I'm not a strong swimmer, which possibly was the reason why I distinctly remember the squeeze I gave his hand before drowning.

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><p><strong><em>AHHHH! <em>**

**_Quite a bit happened in this chapter! First off, you now know where the title of this story came from! :D And Meg died. D: Ideas? Criticisms? Make sure to leave me a review to let me know your opinion! _**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**

**_(PS, Happy Halloween!)_**


	21. How to Die and Live to Tell the Tale

**_A quick note from Aktress to my dear readers: Did you really think I could kill Meg off? Have you such little faith in me? XD However, thanks a ton for all the reviews I've been receiving. Besides all the threats and crying because of the last chapter, I think I can say that you all flatter me with your kindness. :3 Thanks a ton, and I won't keep you from reading this next chapter any longer!_**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 21: How to Die and Live to Tell the Tale<strong>_

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><p>The problem with dying is that you never stay dead for long. I've learned that a few times in my life. When I was twelve with pneumonia and was surprised by waking up alive, when I was shot in the leg a few months ago and lived, and now, gasping for breath while being suddenly alive. My eyes shot open and I began greedily sucking in air. I heard someone laughing beside me, and I was all too aware of the sun beating down mercilessly on me. The next moment, the sun was blocked out of view and pressure was applied to my lips and body.<p>

I had to push Erik off of me so I could get oxygen back in my body. I couldn't speak, but only gasp, and Erik was on his knees, his upper body wrapped around my lying form, laughing. "You're alive. Thank God you're alive!" Everything was blurry, I couldn't see straight. Just blinding sun, and the rush of water from a river.

The rushing water made me remember how I had just died, and with a moan and a gasp, rose to sit up. "I'm... alive... Impossible... Erik... how...?" I said brokenly.

"A miracle," he answered, still holding me tight in this new, upright position. "I was hoping... even praying for the first time in a long, long time. Turns out that it's quite an effective method." He brought his lips down on mine again, but I pushed him away because if I didn't, then I wouldn't be able to breathe or ever stop kissing him.

The truth was, I was so relieved to be alive, that I could hardly think straight. Part of me, respectively my lungs, were screaming to just breathe and nothing else, another part made me wanted to just hold Erik close and never let him go again, and another part made me want to jump straight into action and run all the way to Paris to save my mother.

"Erik... back in... the jail..." I began, but Erik silenced me.

"Don't waste your breath, I'll explain." As Erik began telling me the story.

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><p>Meg was gasping for breath, and Erik knew that they were only moments away from being fully submerged in the lake water. He furrowed his brow and turned to a panicking Meg. "Whatever you do, don't let go of me and keep swimming!" She didn't reply back, but just a few seconds later, Erik was underwater. He felt Meg cling to his forearm with a tight grip and tried to put any concern for her out of his mind at the moment, focusing now on trying to get them both out alive and intact. He opened his eyes, despite the visible dirt and debris, and swam over to the bars. He took as firm a grasp he could in the water and began pulling on it, pressing his feet down into the dirt to pull easier. The bar began to slip, and Erik heard it grind against the cement. It came loose and with one massive yank, and Erik flung it downwards. Quickly calculating that the hole was big enough for them both to get through, he began swimming forward.<p>

Unfortunately, Erik wasn't the best at calculating things with just minutes to live, especially with Meg's life on the line. He felt Meg yank his arm back, and he turned to see that her foot had gotten caught on one of the bars. Meg had a pained expression on her face, her eyes scrunched tightly closed. Erik tugged and tugged at her arm to try and loosen her up, nearly panicking. He felt Meg's grip loosen, and he looked in horror as her expression faded. His heart began beating quicker and quickly pulled her foot a bit harder. She came loose, but was unconscious as Erik grabbed her arm and swam quickly out of the building.

Lucky for him, Erik was quite the experienced swimmer. Underneath the opera where he had spent so many years, Erik had swam quite often, and had even set up small traps if someone were to sneak down with a boat, granting they survived the traps beforehand. Of course, he was able to avoid and maneuver his way around them, and had trained himself to hold his breath for long periods of time. But even his trained lungs were feeling a bit pressured as he swam. Out of the accursed, rotting jail, and up into the drowned sky of the city Erik darted, and as he broke the surface, he gasped for breath, taking it greedily in. He didn't cough, but breathed deeply for a few moments before he took in his surroundings. They were at the surface of the lake, but it was still a ways from out of the hole the water was filling into. The water was still pooling in, and it would take a small chunk of time to get up to the full height.

Erik looked down, remembering his unconscious Meg. Her head had flopped down onto his chest limply, her eyes closed as she lightly breathed. He wished dearly that he knew how to revive her like doctors and nurses could, but even his vast knowledge was limited. Erik brushed some sopping wet hair out of her emotionless face and planted a kiss on her forehead, looking up to see how much further they'd progressed. After a long minute, Erik was able to climb out with Meg, crawling out onto the bank of the huge lake. The unconscious woman lay there, her lips parted slightly, her face blank as it had been moments before.

Breathing hard, Erik crawled over to Meg, inspecting her face, then listening for breathing. Sure enough, her soft breaths were still there, but almost so faint that she wasn't breathing at all. There were few times in his life when Erik panicked, but this was one of them. He felt so helpless and dumb, not knowing what to do. He imagined that she would either soon come to on her own, or she wouldn't survive. The knowledge of this drove him insane, and he stood up, pacing around, thinking at top speed what he could do. Turning around again, a quick glance told him she wasn't improving. A sudden thought struck his mind, a thought that he hadn't thought in years.

At first, Erik felt quite uncomfortable at trying to formulate a prayer. He thought that the wrong words might make God vengeful, and purposely let Meg die. Erik remembered that Antoinette used to go to church in her younger years, during her marriage and Meg's very young life. When her husband had died, she had stopped attending. But during those years, she would often write in her letters to him about how lovely church was, and how the Lord was merciful upon even the worst of humanity, murderers, prostitutes, those people. Erik was still concerned that he might surpass the worst of some. Nonetheless, it was a desperate time, and desperate measures were called for. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. _God_... Suddenly, Erik heard Meg begin to cough and sputter, and his heart nearly stopped. His eyes opened in a flash and he turned around, stunned to see Meg coughing up water. He was quite surprised that his unspoken prayer had worked so quick, and nodded heavenward to show his appreciation. After, he was quick to fly to Meg's side and tend to her as she woke.

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><p>I nodded my head, still gasping for air. My stomach began churning suddenly, and I must have had an interesting expression on my face, because Erik raised an eyebrow. I stood up suddenly and stumbled over to the bushes, in short, emptying my stomach full of water. After that was over, I coughed a little more, and then brought my head back up, blushing a little. "S-sorry about that."<p>

"Feel better?" he asked with a smirk. I weakly grinned back.

"Stop it," I chuckled quietly. "But I wouldn't try kissing me after that."

"No offense, of course," he said, coming over and hugging me tightly with a sigh. "If you had left me, I don't know what I would've done."

"You would have gone on and saved my mother instead of mourning over me," I said, coughing once. "Just like we shouldn't celebrate so prematurely."

Erik sighed and let go of me. "You're absolutely right. We need to get to Paris." He looked up towards the sky, shielding his uncovered face from the sun. I noticed that the mask must've been lost somewhere in the lake. It would be dangerous going into Paris with him uncovered, and the danger of getting caught would be very high. He looked towards the north after determining the direction. "This way, north. That's where we need to head."

"Erik, your mask. It's gone. Don't you think that might put us in greater danger of getting caught?" I inquired. He felt the deformed side of his face, like he was noticing it was gone for the first time.

"Damn," he murmured. "Well, it's not like they weren't going to notice the freak in the papers with the mask any less than the one with the face of the devil."

"You don't have the face of the devil," I rolled my eyes, walking over to the river. The irony of nearly drowning but suddenly become devastatingly thirsty was horribly funny. The water was dirty with dust and debris, but I perched down and took some into my hands, drinking. "I've told you that enough times to get it through your skull, I was hoping."

I wasn't looking, but knew Erik was most likely rolling his eyes. "Hurry up, your mother can't wait a moment longer to see you again and to save her. "  
>A sudden thought shot into my head, and in horror, I turned around to Erik. "Erik, the bag! All our clothes, the money! Surely it's at the bottom of the lake, completely soaked." Erik's eyes began to sparkle suddenly.<p>

"It's almost as if I was anticipating such a thing. I had brought the bag with me, most likely to collect food in, if I recall correctly. I had just found a patch of berries in the forest above the town, and I wasn't sure if they were edible or not, when that bastard of a man came up and told me where he was keeping you. I dropped the bag and ran, my mind completely blanking except for you. Our clothes and most of the food is under the lake in the house, but there's still some food, and all the money."

I sighed with relief. " Our luck is impossible. It's on the other side of the lake, but I think it's worth the millions of francs that bag is worth. Soon, we were up and walking to the other side to retrieve the miraculous bag. Once we located and took it back, we filled our flask with the dirty water, ate a slice of bread each, and were going as fast as was possible back to Paris.

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><p>It was growing dark quickly, and with everything that had happened that day, I was dead tired. Erik must've noticed, because he had insisted we stop for the night. I tried telling him I'd be fine, but he made me sit and eat a morsel of food. The break for the night was honestly a huge relief, my feet were hurting and I kept yawning. He picked a spot to settle, underneath a tall tree, and went off to find sticks for a fire. I sat down and leaned against the tree, closing my eyes to rest.<p>

A few minutes later, I heard rustling. My tired eyes opened and I turned, expecting to see Erik. Instead, I was surprised to see a head full of messy, pale blond hair sticking out from a nearby bush, with multi-colored eyes staring right back at mine. I thought I was going crazy for a moment, and shook my head. But no, standing there not ten meters to my side stood Poppy Staunton, one of the little gypsies from the camp. I gasped and scrambled to stand up. Poppy didn't move, but just stared, only blinking once to show she was alive and not a statue. I didn't know what to say, and just kept staring at her, shocked. How had she gotten here? How far were we from the old camp? Surely we were on the other side of the river dividing forest and the gypsy's village. I then heard faint voices calling out, voices that I knew.

"Poppy? Where are you?"

"Wonderful. We've lost her. AGAIN."

"Relax, she never stays hidden for long. She'll come out soon enough."

"Poppy!"

"Antonio, you're beginning to give me a headache. Could you quick your screeching?"

"Sorry..."

It was Kristen, Antonio, and Didier that I heard, and I felt as though I might have a heart-attack from surprise. I thought I'd never see them again, and there they were, their voices coming nearer every second. At first, I wondered if I should hide. Kristen would be very cross to see me again, no matter how grateful or ungrateful the others would be to see us. But they must be alone, I didn't hear any adult voices. Four children, out on their own. I instantly knew I had to make my presence known then. We could take them to Paris, drop them off somewhere, a church, maybe. They'd know what to do with homeless gypsy children.

I stepped away from the tree, a little woozy from shock and excitement. But I regained my footing and walked over to the big-eyed child. I noticed she was much dirtier than I'd seen her before, and there was also a scar over her cheek. I could only imagine who or what had caused that. I crouched down to her height so I could talk to her eye-to-eye.

"Poppy?" I said softly. "Do you remember me?" As if broken from a spell, Poppy grinned and leaped up, catching me in a surprise hug. I stumbled a little from the force of the little girl as she laughed.

"It's YOU! Mademoiselle Meg! It's really you! I thought we'd never see you again after all the horrible men were there! I thought they might have taken you away forever!" she laughed and screamed.

I laughed a little and patted her on the back. "Hello again, Poppy." There was more rustling in the tall grass and I turned my head to see four shocked faces. Immediately, Didier and Antonio smiled and began to laugh, rushing over to me. Antonio joined the hug, and Didier just stood by me, waiting politely for his turn so he wouldn't have to crouch down. " Señorita Meg! It's you!" Antonio cried out.

"You don't know how good it is to see you again!" I laughed, remembering that I didn't know who was alive and who was dead. I let go of the two children and returned to my full height, which still wasn't much. I smiled at Didier, and he grinned back at me, bringing me into a crushing hug.

"Ah, Mademoiselle! It's so wonderful to reunite with you!" he laughed.

"You too," I managed to breath out, my breath mostly being squished out. He let me go after a moment, and I turned to the two faces that hadn't come up to me yet. One was Kristen, who's face was a mix of shock, anger, and joy. She was trying to look like she didn't care, but it was plain to see that she was relieved to see me again. The other was one was someone I didn't expect to see. It was Tony Eccels, Geoffrey's younger brother. I felt my heart sink a little as I realized his parents must have died in the camp too. Otherwise, he'd still be with them. And his only family member, Geoffrey, was now dead too, his body somewhere in the lake by now.

"Kristen, I'm so glad to-" I began, but she frowned at me and walked towards the tree without another glance at me. Tony silently walked up to me, big eyed as Poppy was.

"Mademoiselle?" he asked quietly. It was a shock to see him like this, whenever I'd seen him, he was rambunctious and wild. But now, soft and quiet. "Do you know where my brother is?"

I couldn't tell him the truth. I just couldn't. How could you tell such an innocent, pleading face that you had seen his older brother strangled before your very eyes by the same villain who had slaughtered the rest of his family and friends? So I wrapped him up in a hug and lied. "I don't know, the last I saw of him was at the camp. I'm sorry."

When I let go, the boy's eyes faded a little and he nodded to show his comprehension. "I understand. It's good to see you again," he mumbled, sitting down by the grass. I turned then to Kristen, who was sitting, her face angrily set and her arms cross, under the tree where I had been sitting.

"Do not think this changes anything. We're going to stop here for the night, and then we're leaving. Don't think that I'm just going to forgive you and greet you happily," she snapped. I sighed.

"I honestly didn't expect you to. But if we have time, I promise you an explanation of everything. I'm serious. You deserve that much after all that's happened to everyone," I said back. Kristen's mouth twitched into a small smile, and I grinned back, relieved that she wasn't as angry with me.

"One night," she repeated. I nodded, still grinning. Didier came over to Kristen and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around the sassy Spanish girl. She immediately rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "So where's Erik? Are you alone now?"

"No, he's off finding wood for a fire, we've just set off from a little town. Well, I suppose it's more of an underwater city now, and we almost drowned, and I'm dog-tired, but we're both miraculously still alive," I said, wondering exactly how absurd that sounded. Poppy and Antonio's eyes grew wide.

"Really?" Antonio gasped. "How did that happen?"

"Yeah, does it include the use of swords and guns and dragons?" Poppy grinned hopefully. I smiled.

"No, none of... well, there was the use of a gun, but I'll tell the story later," I answered, with no intention of telling them that story. Maybe I'd tell the older teenagers the story, but I don't think the kids would understand it as much.

It was about a minute later when Erik showed up, sticks and wood piled up in his arms, and a surprised expression upon his face. One thing I'd forgotten was that his mask was missing, and was reminded of it when the kids began screaming. I bit my lip as Erik looked confused, then realized that his face was naked. I quickly sprang into action, reassuring the kids it was just a scar, not a monster. They seemed fine after that, but stayed clear of Erik for a time. When Erik demanded an explanation, I just rolled my eyes. "Later," I promised, and asked the kids to help me build up a fire.

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><p><strong><em>Okay, so the ending to this chapter was a bit odd and not as totally climactic as the last two. This was a HUGE filler chapter. But, at least Meg's alive. I hope to get another chapter in ASAP, but first need kick myself into action to finish the story. I know exactly what I want to happen, but can't bring myself to type it out. :P Anywho, I can already tell you from here on out, things only get better and better, or worse and worse, depending on how you look at it! :D <em>**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	22. In Paris Once More

_**Chapter 22: In Paris Once More**_

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><p>Although I had been tired hours before, the surprise of meeting up with Kristen and the others made me so excited, that I stayed up with Erik, Didier, and Kristen long after the smaller children had gone to sleep. The cold night air was crisp and cool, and the crackling fire in front of us that had to be tended every now and then was wonderfully warm. It was another beautiful, cloudless night, with no chance of any rain. Antonio, Poppy, and Tony lay by the tall tree with capes and blankets shared. They looked so peaceful and oblivious to the dark world that surrounded them, both metaphorically and literally. Which led me right back in a circle to the cause of why I was so tired; George Beaure.<p>

"I can't avoid the topic any longer," I sighed, sitting beside Erik. He didn't have his arm wrapped around me, but I didn't care. I didn't doubt his affection for me, even if a few small gestures were skipped or missed. It was more of a mutual, respectable distance. On the other hand, Kristen rested her head on Didier's shoulder comfortably, Dider's arm holding her tight against him. It was quite the romantic gesture for young teenagers, but I supposed they were only a few years younger than I was.

"Listen... if you really feel uncomfortable talking about it, I'm not going to force you-" Kristen began, but I shook my head and interrupted her.

"No, you deserve to hear the story. The whole, complete story. I suppose we should start from the beginning."

So Erik and I did. Erik began telling the story first, from his point of view. He started talking about his life as a slave to gypsies as a child, in which both Kristen and Didier apologized for, then my mother saving him. He skipped most of his teenage and early years, until Christine came. He stopped there, and I knew that it would be in everyone's best interest that I continued from there. I explained how Christine had caught his attention and he placed her in the lead role. He became obsessed over her, and when he found she was in love with another, Raoul, he was heartbroken. In desperation, he tried everything, in the end murdering people who got in the way and very nearly burning down the whole Opera House. What's worse is that Christine revealed his face to the world, and they were horrified and disgusted by him. He stole Christine away, but hours later, she came back safely with Raoul and we had never seen them since.

Erik stayed quiet still, so I began telling of our newer adventure. I had come to visit him in the jail and helped plan breaking him out. I told of the dashing cabbie, who distracted me while my mother was beaten outside, left to die in the streets. Eventually, I came around to the jail again and Erik and I planned on breaking out. However, on my way out that night, I was intercepted by the cabbie, who tried to make me go down to the Phantom's lair and find the treasure. Instead, I realized that he was the cop after Erik, George Beaure.

At this point, Kristen interrupted. "This is the same man who led the attacks, wasn't it?" she asked softly. I nodded.

"Unfortunately, yes. He's a very evil man."

"Continue, please."

Erik took up from that point, having fully recovered from Christine's involvement in the story. He spoke of how he had waited for me to show up, and when I finally escaped from Beaure and arrived in a frenzy, we tried to hurry away, but I was shot in the leg and had to be brought to a hospital. We escaped from Beaure, but only for month or so, giving me about enough time to heal up my leg. I still had to be cautious with it, and doubted I could dance properly with it again, but we had made our escape into the forest, leaving my mother and friends, Anne and Noellë.

Then I explained that soon after, we had found our way to them. They knew that story, and skipped to after the massacre, where we left off and found the strange, abandoned town. We stayed there for a few days until we got to this morning. Erik was all ears as well as I explained what I had found in the locked room, and how I had fallen right into Beaure's trap. I spoke quietly and quickly of Geoffrey's brutal death, just in case Tony was by some chance still listening. Kristen sat with a dark look as I quietly explained it.

"Poor Tony," Didier mumbled. "How should we tell him?"

"We don't," I sighed. "I don't know if he could take that. You know him better than I, would he be strong enough to handle it?"

"We can deal with that later, keep telling your story," Kristen murmured and snuggled up closer to Didier. I continued.

I explained how he offered me the chance to live with him, and declined in disgust. He then flung me in the jail cell. Erik picked up, telling how Beaure had come on horseback, telling how I was stored away in the jail. When we were both trapped, Beaure had explained his plot and left us to drown in the new lake. Erik explained with all the drama of a storyteller the suspense of us escaping, and how we were now on the run back to Paris to save my mother before May 11th, although we had no clue what day it was as it is.

After our story was over, neither Kristen or Didier spoke for a moment. The only sound was the crackling of the dying fire. After a moment, Kristen spoke. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I shouldn't have thought so badly of you. All I knew were that men on horses were killing my family and neighbors, and that you were the cause. I heard second-hand that you were both murderers, and was infuriated. Now..."

"It's alright," I said quietly. "We forgive you completely. And we haven't been saints either. We both have a lot hanging on our shoulders. But enough about us, what happened since we left?"

Kristen looked at Didier for a moment, exchanging unspoken words. Eventually, Kristen turned to us and spoke. "They burned the whole camp."

I'll admit that I was shocked, and it took a moment for me to speak. "What?"

Kristen sighed and pulled her legs up, holding her knees together. "After you two ran off, I went back into the center of the camp. The men on horses had taken over, and one, their leader, I guessed, was yelling at his men for not catching you. They had Geoffrey as prisoner, tied up with rope and bleeding. It was awful, and I think seeing him being led off like that is why Tony has been so quiet. I think he knows that he's gone for good, but doesn't talk about it often. I tried pointing them in the other way, but Geoffrey led them towards you after being promised that Meg's life would be spared." I felt awful. Geoffrey had really thought that he could save me, and had given his own life trying. In a sense, it was my fault he was dead. I broke the mutual distance and scooted a little closer to Erik, grabbing hold of his hand. He gave it a small squeeze back and Kristen continued on with her tale.

"Before they left, I remember the leader on his horse turned around, a torch in his hand as he stared down at us survivors. He looked so menacing in the flickering lights, and I think all our brains were mush that night from everything. But he sat there and yelled, 'See what your kindness and hospitality does for you.' Then he smirked and leaned down, lighting one of the tents on fire to all our horror. He and his men left, leaving the remainder of us to scream, try to put out the fires, and try to escape. But it wasn't any use, and the tents lit up in a domino effect. I was able to yank the five of us out of the camp, and only a handful of others made it. The fire was so quick, that I don't think anyone who was inside their tents made it out. There were only twenty-three of us that escaped. The rest of the camp burned." Kristen's eyes were beginning to grow moist and her voice cracked. "Antonio thinks it's his fault, that so many people wouldn't have died if they weren't at his party. No one even got a proper grave..." she sobbed. "They're just ashes, blowing away in the wind."

She couldn't speak any more and turned her face into Didier's shoulder. I felt tears pricking at my eyes too and tried in vain to blink them away. Didier turned to us sadly. "The rest of the survivors wanted to forget the whole thing, put it in the past, and live like they always had. They'd earn money entertaining, and buy up the supplies to rebuild another campsite. But we couldn't live like that anymore, not after all that had happened. So we bid adieu to the rest and set for Paris, where we would begin working like other French people."

"My father," Kristen choked. "was British as a young man. When he came to France and met my mother, he became a wild Frenchman. But there was always that little bit of a civilized Englishman in him, and he always told Antonio and I... 'No matter what happened in the past, no matter how painful or dreadful, you never forget, and you always forgive.'"

"Your father was a very good man," I said quietly.

"Yes, he was," Kristen sniffed. "And he'd hate to see me like this. He'd never want to see me so weak."

"That's why our father and mothers before us became what they were, they were afraid of all the hurt and pain of humanity, and decided that what was the past was the past. Every day was work _and_ play, and there was no time to stay sad. But it's time we faced the music and became civil again, earning an honest wage." Didier said powerfully.

"Do you have any idea what you're going to do when you get to Paris?" I asked.

Kristen looked up at the sky as she spoke. "We first must find a place for the children. My father said children don't run around the streets unless they're dirty and homeless. They might as well, since we _are_ dirty and homeless. But we must find a place for them. Once Didier and I are married, we can-"

"Married?" I interrupted. Kristen grinned for the first time that night, barely blushing, and pulled her hand away from Didier's to show me a well-loved brass ring that glinted faintly in the firelight.

"He proposed to me yesterday. He was going to the night of the fiesta, after everyone had left. Obviously plans got changed..." Kristen replied, beaming.

"It was my mother's. My father kept it after her death, and before he died, he gave it to me, telling me that when the right girl came, she would accept the ring and proudly wear it, no matter how old and cheap it is. It's very special, and Kristen knows that," Didier said and kissed his bride to be.

"Congratulations," Erik murmured, speaking for the first time since we told our story.

"Yes, congratulations, both of you," I mimicked, smiling and secretly wondering if Erik and I would ever be wed. I doubted it, however, seeing as this mission might be suicidal and dangerous, and it would be a miracle if we both came out alive and not sentenced to a number of years in prison. Kristen nodded her appreciation.

"Thank you two. After we're wed, we'll find work and support ourselves until we can also bring the children back in with us," Didier said. "It's not the best plan, but... that's it. But meeting up with you two changes everything."

"We want to help you," Kristen said eagerly. "In any way we can to bring that villain to justice. We deserve the right to beat him as much as you two do. Maybe not as much, but we still reserve a right."

"We could never ask that of you," I began, wondering how Erik and I were going to try and get to him in the first place. "It's too-"

Kristen scoffed. "Meg de Barbazac, er... I suppose it's really Giry, huh? But you're such a cliché. You know that, right? Yeah, it's dangerous and it might mean certain death, but we want to help you. That's the final word."

Before I could open my mouth to protest, Erik spoke. "It's no use arguing now, we'll never meet a middle-point. We should all get to bed if we want to ever make it back to Paris within the millennium." We all begrudgingly agreed and kicked the fire out with dirt. I bade goodnight to the two young adults and found my own spot on the ground. I lay down, thinking that a pillow would be very nice to have. As I closed my eyes, I heard and felt someone sit down beside me. Opening my eyes, I realized it was Erik. Slightly surprised, I realized that he was going to sleep beside me. I didn't know why I blushed at that thought, seeing as we had already kissed multiple times. This just seemed... different. Almost more intimate than before.

Almost timidly, he lay beside me and put his arm around me, pulling my body towards him. "This isn't too..." he muttered softly with a small hint of hesitation in his voice. I pulled my head up close enough to him and kissed him softly.

"No. It's certainly not 'too'. It's more 'just right'," I said quietly back, snuggling into Erik's arms, breathing in the scent of smoke from the fire on him. Although the conditions were awful, it was one of the most comfortable nights I'd ever known.

* * *

><p>In contrast from that night, the hardest thing I'd ever known was walking into Paris, France, two days later. I wanted to run back to the gypsy camp, return to what I'd lived to call my normal life for more than a glorious month. Back to what I'd come to think of as civilization. I hadn't remembered Paris as such a loud, noisy, dangerous place. But as the seven of us stepped out of the safety of the woods, I stepped into the outskirts of Paris. It was a more remote area of the city, but even there it seemed busy. A wagon drawn by cattle went by on one side of the road and a cab went by on the other, it's horses noisily clopping by. Various people were yelling and children were joyfully screeching in the distance. If this was just the outskirts, I could hardly believe what the centre of the city looked like.<p>

There was no way of telling what time it was, but we had set off soon after the sun had risen. During the past few days, it was just talking, walking, and trying our hardest not to think of the past or the future. It must have been hours since we'd left this morning. We had walked, formulating a plan and keeping the children from wandering far off. It must have been at least past noon, we had been walking so long. The plan we had come up with was that Erik and I would hurry off towards my old home, or at least I would look at a newspaper in town to see what date it was to make sure it wasn't too late to save my mother. Kristen and Didier would stay close by, while looking out for any sort of church or orphanage (after I told Kristen what an orphanage was, she was horrified by the idea, but decided it was the best course of action) to leave the kids at, promising to come back someday soon.

It had sounded like such a sure course of action as we planned it, but now, actually stepping into Paris, all the flaws came to mind. What if it _was_ too late? What if we were caught? What if someone recognized us and called out to a gendarme? Or worse; What if Beaure saw us before we saw him? Realizing the slim chance of this all actually working out, I turned around to the gypsies I'd come to call my family. First, I turned to Kristen, squeezing her in a tight hug. "This might as well be goodbye," I chuckled. "Who knows who will survive this?"

"Kick the hell out of him," Kristen replied, and let go, smiling at me. "But leave some hell for me to kick as well."

"I'm so sorry for all that has happened," I said, hugging Didier as well.

"Maybe this has all been for a greater good, in the end," he replied, but I could still see a glint of sorrow in his eyes.

Saying goodbye to the children was extremely hard. They didn't know what was going to happen to any of us, that they might never even see Kristen or Didier, let alone us, again. Poppy hugged my head tightly and I had to smooth my hair back into place, and Antonio gave me a big, powerful hug as he laughed, telling me I'd see him soon. Tony just gave me a small hug and mumbled a goodbye.

But the most touching thing I'd ever seen in my life occurred directly after my own goodbyes. It was Erik's turn to say goodbye, and after receiving encouraging words and handshakes from Kristen and Didier, he shook the children's hands, shaking Antonio's last. Antonio looked up curiously at him, then leaped up, hugging him tightly. Erik looked sort of stunned. "I don't know where you're going, _Señor_, but I hope you know that you've been my role model. I want to grow up and be just like you. I know you think that some people think you're ugly, but I think that you're a very handsome man."

I felt tears come to my eyes as the innocent young twelve year old grinned up at a stunned Erik. He just stood there for a moment, then crouched down to hug the boy better. "Antonio, you are one of the bravest children I've ever met. You're going to be a very powerful man, I can tell." I saw the wetness in Erik's eyes as he stood up and walked back over to me, taking me by the hand. I squeezed it softly and I wiped my eyes as I waved goodbye to our friends. They told us goodbye once more, and Erik turned to me, his tattered cloak stratigically worn so it could easily cover up the imperfect half of his face. "Are you ready?"

I sighed and nervously smiled. "Not in the least."

He let go of my hand and we began running, the severity of the situation coming once again to mind. With each pounding step across the dirt road that we made it to, I felt the adrenaline kick in, making it seem all the more urgent to find out what day it was or to find my mother once again.

I was breathing heavily by the time we reached the busier part of the city. Erik had stopped and pulled the cloak up, sticking to the more shadowy parts of the pavement. Granted, it was a sunny day, but as shadowy as the pavement could get. I stood by him and looked around for any sort of newspaper salesman or indication of the time. I quickly spotted my target, a salesman who was right across the street. I was about to tell Erik so and head straight over when I stopped dead in my tracks, getting one of the biggest shocks in my life, standing right in front of me.

Christine Daae was standing by an apple seller's stand, laughing at something the pudgy man had said, then smiling and saying something back. My blood ran cold, and I felt paralysed for the moment. Looking over to Erik, he was looking another direction and obviously showed no sign that he had seen her. Almost heaving a sigh of relief, I took Erik's hand, muttering, "Let's go another direction."

He turned with me, though confused, and tried looking behind. But I squeezed Erik's hand, muttering through my teeth, "Don't turn around." It would only stun him and slow him down even more than me. We'd go another way, down another street, to some other news stand. I couldn't risk having-

"Meg?" she suddenly called out with a gasp. My heart froze and I watched as Erik's eyes grew wide. His grip on my hand grew immensely tight and I bit my lip from the pain.

"Keep walking," I hissed. But it was no use, Erik was stunned still. He was turned away from Christine, but didn't move. I, on the other hand, foolishly turned around to see Christine's bright face smile at me. She turned to the apple seller, said something, than rushed over to me in the most ladylike way. Panicking, I whispered to Erik quickly, "Go away," then proceeded to walked towards Christine, away from Erik. It was really the only way to protect him from her.

"It _is_ you!" Christine laughed, walking up to embrace me in a tight hug. I felt uncanny, torn between joy for seeing my dear old friend again, annoyance for not being able to run off and try to save my mother once more, and complete fear that Christine would find Erik, or Erik would suddenly go through a complete change of persona without warning. It was a terrifying experience to say the least.

"Christine, how wonderful to see you again," I mustered, trying to laugh back. She pulled me back, grinning and admiring me.

"Oh, Meg! I haven't seen you in so long! I haven't had the chance to write back to you! We have so much to catch up on! I'm so sorry our last meeting was so brief, but I'm sure you completely understand, don't you? You must come over for tea!" Christine spoke with twinkling eyes and bright cheeks. I must have turned pale.

"Maybe another day, I'm much too-"

"Nonsense, Meg, it's been over half a year since we talked to each other! We must have tea together today. Never mind my shopping, I was only out to pick up a few things that aren't absolutely necessary. But what happened to your clothes?" she asked, noticing my clothing for the first time. I looked down. It was same (now browned) red and pink stained dress I'd initially worn days ago through the flood and all our travelling. My hair must've been a complete mess as well, and my whole being very dirty.

"It was just... I really must be on my way, Christine," I begged. But she didn't seem to pay any attention to me. Come to think of it, she was barely making a fuss over me, like she should. I was a wanted criminal, and she wanted to invite me over for tea! "Christine..."

"Come, now. I'll call a cab and we can go straight to our home. Oh, you'll love it, Meg! Raoul owns this gorgeous manor just outside of Paris, and it's just the place we dreamed of as children!" Christine smiled and grabbed my dirty hand. Thinking fast (but not fast enough), I tried to get away, but I could only throw a backwards glance at Erik, who was still staring at us with wide eyes and an otherwise emotionless face. It terrified me, and I could only imagine in horror what Erik was thinking as Christine lead me away into a nearby cab, driving us off and away from the disfigured man on the street.

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><p><em><strong>Hi, there! Quick little note, I recently posted up a new II Act ErikMeg story. I'd really appreciate it if you checked it out! :P Thanks a bunch! ALSO. I'm unbelievably sorry at how late this update came! _ I'm an awful person, I know! But it's out, so yay! :)**_

_**Best Wishes,**_

_**Aktress.**_


	23. May 11th

_**Chapter 23: May 11th**_

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><p>My face was deadly pale most of the ride to Christine's new home. Christine was chatting like I should've been, given different circumstances. But it was a matter of life or death. I didn't know where my mother was, and my mind was racing back and forth from my mother, to Christine, to Erik, to Kristen and Didier and the children, and finally Beaure, circling in a vicious cycle. Christine seemed partially concerned for my sanity, but was also too excited to tell me everything about her new life and apologized that I couldn't have seen her sooner.<p>

As we pulled up to the grand de Chagny manor, Christine took me by the hand excitedly and I snapped out of whatever I was thinking about. Christine smiled warmly at me with that beautiful smile of hers that used to make me mildly envious. "Meg, I have a very big secret to tell you once we're alone." Her eyes sparkled with mischief and I was certainly curious, on top of all my other emotions.

"Oh, can't you tell me now?" I asked like I might have said months ago. Christine bit her lip like a young girl holding a huge bit of gossip.

"No, we must wait," she smiled, the door of the cab being pulled open by the driver. "Thank you," Christine said and paid for the ride, stepping out. I nodded towards the driver as I exited as well. He closed the door, hopped back up top, and drove away. Christine took me by the arm, leading me towards the entrance of the grand home.

It really was gorgeous, and I couldn't help but push my other worries back in my mind to admire it. It was probably three stories high, it's outside walls painted a lovely cream, and various flowers bloomed in the front garden. It's shutters had delicate decorative shapes carved into them, and were a chocolatey, warm brown that made me think of the whole colouring of the house like a large cake or baked good. Once we stepped inside, I was lead through a room with a high ceiling, a delicate chandelier hanging above the entrance and a wonderful marble staircase leading to the up past a few rooms until we came to a sitting room where Christine let go of my arm and seated herself in a cosy-looking chair. "Amelia should come around soon, she's my maid-in-waiting. I'm sure she'd be happy to help you upstairs to wash and dress yourself. Please, take any of my dresses, I have too many, anyway," she said with a small smile, but I was all too aware that she was staring at how dirty, dishevelled, and what an utter mess I was. With a self-conscious blush, I stood there until Amelia came by and lead me away from the Viscountess to another place.

Less than half an hour later, I had bathed in warm water, cleaned up my body (the amount of dirt left in the bathtub was astoundingly disgusting), and dressed. Amelia was a younger woman, in her mid-twenties by the look of it. She wasn't as young as the sixteen, nearly seventeen, Christine, or me, but she was probably five feet tall, at most. She insisted upon brushing my hair out, and although I said I was perfectly capable on my own, she fought her way through the tangles on her own. I tried my best not to wince as she yanked through my hair with a brush.

After that nightmare, she walked over to the wardrobe and opened the dark wooden doors, revealing a closet full of laces and colour. It would've been such a wonderful sight if I hadn't had so much on my mind. The very thought of my original mission was enough to make me shake. However, I half-conciously chose a more practical gown than some others. It was still plentiful with lace, but it's skirts didn't billow out so much that I would hardly be able to move without knocking something over. And looking about the manor, I saw that there would be plenty for me to break. My gown was a light, minty green shade, enhancing my emerald eyes, as Amelia had complimented. The sleeves gorgeously billowed out in a bell-like shape, white lace trimming the ends that reached my wrists. The top and bottom of the dress were lined with a slightly darker material than the mint green, and felt something like faux silk. As Amelia combed through my hair one last time, she asked me, "How do you know Madame de Chagney, if I may ask?"

I was silent for a moment, the mirror image of my face staring blankly back at myself. "If you'd please, it's a slightly personal question."

Amelia gave me a funny look, but replied, "Of course, Mademoiselle. My apologies for prying."

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><p>Kristen's lips were bleeding from all the biting down on them she was doing. Despite her efforts, she was still sobbing, even as her and her fiancé continued walking onwards. "How will I be able to live without them, Di? I've lost my friends, my parents, and now I've lost my baby brother. The only thing I have left to lose is you."<p>

Didier pulled her close to him in a hug, tears rolling down his eyes as well. "We live on, Kristen. Soon, we'll have enough money to get them back. It's the best way for them, really."

"I'm not so sure any of this is the best way any more," Kristen sighed as they turned the corner. The three children hadn't expected any of it. An innocent stroll into Paris is what they expected, and now they were beginning new lives at an orphanage. The two kept on walking, arm in arm, until there was a cloaked figure standing in their way, in the middle of the busy pavement. At first, Kristen expected it to be some confused old woman, but as she looked back, she barely recognized the gold-green eyes trademarked to Erik. She stopped for a moment and looked closer. If she looked just right, she could see part of his face that wasn't quite right. And in his eyes, glazed over like he was dead, or had seen the very face of death, at least. "Didier, wait."

"Hm?" Didier turned around to see what Kristen was stopping for. He recognized the eyes too, and gave Kristen a knowing look. They both turned around and moved towards Erik. "Monsieur Erik?"

"Where is Meg?" Kristen said in a hushed voice.

Erik's face was still blank, but in almost an inaudible whisper, he faintly said, "Christine..."

* * *

><p>Abigail and I were both silent for the rest of the short while she groomed me, and in five more minutes time, I was walking down the hall as to not rip the dress or trip over my own feet. My head was still pulsing and spinning that I did nearly trip while thoughts poured through my brain, and felt my cheeks grow warm as I regained my balance.<p>

Mere seconds after I had opened the door to Christine's sitting room, she had turned around with a genuine smile and gracefully stood up, walking towards me and led me in. "Oh, you look gorgeous in that! I always suspected that you'd look good in green." Her eyes sparkled with all the childlike heart that she had always possessed. Christine took my arm and brought me over to the chairs, where I sat with a blank stare across my face. Instead of trying to make immediate conversation with Christine, I looked around the sitting room, now focusing more on its details.

The walls were papered in a floral pattern, blues, purples, and reds swirling together to create a gorgeous display. An electric light was hanging in the middle of the room, not a fancy chandelier, but pretty enough to fit the room. There wasn't much besides Christine and my own chair, whose pattern mimicked that of the wall's. Other features that came to my attention were the fireplace set in the middle of the left wall, cool at the moment, and a few swords mounted on the wall. There were four of them, each with a different blade length (in a case, of course) and handle design. They were quite spectacular, and I concluded they were Raoul's. A small side table was placed between us, where a tea tray now sat. It had a pretty rose painted onto the pot, matching ones were painted on the two cups, all resting on a silver tray. It was any girl's dream, and Christine now lived in the centre of it.

Speaking of the girl, I took a close look at her to see how see had changed in six months. Immediately, I noticed that her face was bright and colourful. It was hardly the troubled, pale girl who I'd come to know and talk to not so long ago. Her hair was beautifully dark brown and her natural curls framed her face perfectly. She was also a bit more plump, but not enough that I would've noticed right away. Her cream and crimson dress looked spectacular on her, the crimson skirt melting in with the creamy ribbons and sleeves. In all, she looked absolutely picturesque, possibly even more beautiful than before.

"Would you like me to pour you some tea?" she asked, looking directly at me. I looked away, down at the teapot.

"No, I can get some on my own, thank you," I muttered, pouring my own cup and sipping it just for her entertainment.

"Listen, I know that you probably hate me now, because I'm the girl who got the happily ever after and forgot her best friend. But I have honestly been so busy that I really haven't the time," Christine began.

"No, it's not that," I answered her. "I'm very happy for you, and am so glad that everything has turned out well."

"I probably should have been a bit more persistent, I admit," Christine cracked a smile. "For months, I was traumatized, as you probably would've guessed, and didn't even bother to think of anyone but myself, Raoul, and...him." Christine's smile faltered and soon fell. I looked up, a bit more interested, now that Erik was suddenly shoved onto the stage.

"Him?" I said, almost too innocently, prompting her on. She looked at me, the sparkle dimmed a little.

"You didn't know how awful it was. His face... like something out of a horror novel or ghost story. How could I have ever learned to love such a person? It wasn't just his appearance, though, Meg. He was insane, driven by only God knows what. He was murdering anyone who got in the way of me and him. He made me... made me dress in a wedding gown, and almost killed Raoul..." I saw a delicate crystal tear run down her face. She dabbed at it quickly and tried to smile. "I'm being foolish. Things are better now. No use dwelling in the past, is there?"

"Christine, what do you think happened to him?" I said softly, trying not to give away too much information. Christine took a sip of her tea and looked out the window into the backyard.

"I've given so much thought to that over the past few months, and have come to the conclusion that he passed on. He wasn't healthy in his mind, and what I did must have driven him to so much...despair that... oh, Meg, must we talk about this?" Christine looked back at me with sadness plainly written across her face.

"I wish that we could have a normal conversation during this reunion, but I'm afraid we can't," I said in a business-like voice. "Haven't you seen all the racket about him in past papers?"

Christine furrowed her brow. "I don't often read the newspaper, is it important?"

"A bit, yes... doesn't Raoul read the paper, though? Shouldn't he know about it?"

Christine's answer stunned me. "About what? And of course Raoul reads the paper. Every week."

Meg tried thinking hard about how Christine didn't know a thing about what was happening. To be honest, she was quite stunned. "Raoul has never said anything about the Phantom?"

"Nothing besides what happened months ago," Christine said, her face paling. "Meg, what's happened?"

* * *

><p>It took a small bit of time, but Kristen and Didier had gotten him out of his stunned state of mind so they could hear what had happened. When Erik had finished to the best of his abilities, Kristen immediately crossed the street and peered at the daily newspaper at a stall. She looked and flipped through it quickly, and her tan face turned a slight shade lighter. Grimly, she walked back over.<p>

"Are we too late?" Erik mumbled.

"No," Kristen shook her head. "We're perfectly on time, but the trial is going on as we speak." When Erik learned the date, the spark that lit inside him gave him enough energy to run to the courthouse without thinking of Christine or Meg. They would be safe, far away from the danger he was about to throw himself into. The two teenagers followed quickly behind him, no longer swamped with the children as a handicap. The very thought that Beaure would be smugly standing there, trying to bribe Madame Giry with her own life made him grit his teeth and run faster. Minutes later, they arrived at the courthouse. Kristen was breathing hard, and Didier tried speaking. "Monsieur, what's the plan?" Erik stared at the Opera house, the cloak still tied around him to not reveal his face, and the bag held closely around his shoulder. "I've got an idea. But the two of you have to stay in the back of the trial. This might be risky. Now do either of you have a quill or pen?"

* * *

><p>"I really should leave," I said, standing up and trying in vain to leave the room, but Christine was quick, and stood, holding me back by my arm. I looked at her with sorrow in my eyes. "Christine, please."<p>

"I'm not letting you leave until I know what's going on," she cried out, fear in her eyes. "What's happened that's being kept secret from me?"

I stared at her a moment before sighing and sitting back down. "Christine, what day is it?"

"The eleventh of May," she answered, not taking her eyes off me. My heart froze. Today was the day, my mother's trial was going on right now, or might even already be over.

"In any case, I have to hurry, because my mother might be thrown into a jail cell at any given moment."

Christine's eyes grew wide. "Meg, stop your teasing! Please tell me what is happening!"

"Months ago, the gendarme went under the charred Opera House and found the body of the Phantom. He was still alive, and they threw him in jail. A day before his trial, he escaped."

"What does this have to do with us? Maybe he's gone to America and left us alone," Christine tried reasoning.

"He's not in America, Christine. I know because I helped him escape."

* * *

><p>Antoinette Giry sat with her lips pursed, knowing fully well that although she was not speaking, most of the courtroom had their eyes on her. She was the main attraction in this deranged carnival, the freak-show. However, she kept her eyes locked onto the judge, forbidding herself to look around. If she was to be condemned to prison, she'd do it with dignity. Her daughter wouldn't expect anything else of her, and if she ever made it back to Paris, she hoped Meg would think her mother had fought a strong battle.<p>

It was just minutes before her trial, and Antoinette sat there, unmoving. She thought about her deceased husband, her former job at the opera, her good friend Anne who had the dignity to sit in the front row behind her for support, Erik, the late Phantom of the opera, and her dear daughter, Meg. She had no clue of Meg's whereabouts, or if she was living, but hoped that Erik and her had found some city or village somewhere, and had parted ways, living on their own safely. The very thought of them starving in the forest nearly gave her a heart attack, and she tried to switch her mind to other things.

Unfortunately, her mind was switched for her. George Beaure stood up from his side of the room and calmly walked over to Antoinette. He crouched down next to her and before she could protest, began whispering in her ear. "Listen, I have nothing against you. I don't wish for you to be thrown in the prison. If you promise that you'll show me the way down to the Phantom's lair after all of this, I'll promise to make it look best for you, maybe even cancel the whole thing. I wouldn't want you framed, and I'm sure you'd love to keep your life. What do you say?"

Antoinette was silent for a moment, deep in thought. What could she do? If she promised, what might happen to her after he showed her down? He might as well turn on her and kill or rape her while he took Erik's treasure. He had certainly shown that he wasn't a man to be trusted, but what else could she do? "Where is my daughter?"

"Madame, you know better than I where she is," he whispered. "For all we know, she's living under another name, safely. I promise you I haven't harmed her any more than I have in the past that you know of."

"How can I trust you?" Antoinette hissed back.

"You can't," he chuckled. "But if you want to bargain, what say I give you a tenth of the money, for leading the way. If you ever see Meg again, at least you'll be wealthy."

Antoinette thought once more. Finally, she turned to the man's smug face. "Fine. We have a deal." Beaure gave her a nod and a smile, and walked back over to his side of the court just as coolly has he had left it.

* * *

><p>Erik, who could find his way through anything, was in the rafters of the building. He peered through a small shaft and looked at the crowd below. It reminded him of the days at the opera, peering down for his box at the crowd of richly dressed people, settling in for the show. But this wasn't just an opera, it was real life. Kristen and Didier had entered, and were now sitting in the back, looking around. He hoped they'd remember what they were to do. He then looked over to one side, where Antoinette sat. Her face was paler than before, and she was even skinnier than he had last seen her. The other woman from the hospital sat behind her, glaring over to the other side of the room. Erik followed her gaze, directly under the shaft, and frowned too. Who else would it be besides Beaure? He had a smug look on his face, and looked prepared to condemn Erik's old friend to prison.<p>

Erik held the paper he'd written on tight between his fingers. The note made the deja vu of the moment even greater. Still, this wasn't the harmless demands for his salary, or criticisms of a show to the managers of the opera, this might be the note that could save a life or two. He was just about to drop the note down to where Beaure might see it, when the doors opened from the front of the courthouse.

His attention was drawn to the person entering, and nearly growled when he saw who it was. Damned that he'd said Beaure was working by himself, Erik had known all along that Raoul de Chagney had been behind this. The Viscount looked around, then walked forwards, the doors slowly closing behind him. The man walked up the aisle like he owned the building and Erik grit his teeth, his grip on the now-forgotten note tightening. The Viscount looked to the judge, then asked permission to approach. The judge nodded, and The Viscount ascended the stairs to get to the man above, and then exchanged hushed words with him.

Erik was getting restless. He couldn't use the note at the moment, the Viscount might see and recognize Erik's trademark style of communicating. That could mean trouble for Erik, and possibly the Madame, so he held still for the time being. He was itching to know what the two men were discussing, and he imagined that Raoul was bribing the judge to pronounce her guilty. It made Erik sick.

Eventually, Raoul nodded and descended again, taking a seat beside Antoinette. She looked at him with confusion, and he mumbled something to her. Her eyebrows raised and she looked at the judge. "Ladies and gentlemen," the judge proclaimed. "It has come to my attention that this trial will not take place until a later time. New evidence has been found, and research must be done on it. A later date will be set for the trial, you may all be excused."

There was a collective mumbling from the crowd, both stunned and annoyed. A few rose, beginning to collect their things and leave, and others stood around to chat a bit with others. As for Erik, he was too stunned to do anything but stare down. Antoinette was laughing and hugging Raoul, and the Viscount was grinning. She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled like a young woman again. However, on the other side of the spectrum was Beaure, and his face was angry enough that he might've just shot all the people left in the building. One of his men tapped him on the shoulder, asking him something. He turned, yelling back at the poor man. Erik couldn't make out what he was saying over the roar of the crowd, but got the idea that he was angry.

However, a sudden light came to Beaure, and the red drained from his face. He grinned and told something to the man he had yelled at moments before, glancing at Raoul, who was saying his goodbyes to the Madame, and leaving the building in a rush. The other man pointed and Beaure nodded, both now grinning. They quickly stood and started heading for the door, following behind the Viscount. Erik didn't know what exactly they had planned, but had a pretty good idea what they were thinking. So Erik stood up and made his way down outside once more, forgetting all about the paper.

He fought the crowd, cloak still clutched close to him. Inside, he got close to Kristen and Didier, who were confused upon what to do now that their plans had been diverted. "Go to the Madame, tell her you're friends of Meg. Ask her to bring you two home, and look after her. If she asks about either of us, lie. Tell us we're not in any danger."

"So you will be in danger?" Kristen asked.

"Most likely, yes. It's quite possible that someone is going to die within the hours left in this day. It's been a pleasure knowing you both," Erik said, then slinked back out with the crowd. When outside, Erik watched The Viscount ride off in his carriage. He still disliked the man, but found his heart not quite as hard towards him as it was before.

Beaure and his henchman were climbing in a cab, and Erik heard Beaure say, "To the Viscount Raoul de Chagney's Manor." Erik's suspicions grew even more as their own cab went off. Erik had to find a way to make his way to the manor as well, and hailed another cab. It took a few minutes, but he finally got one, and told the driver, still under his cloak, to go to the Manor as well. The driver didn't ask questions when Erik showed him a generous tip, and with that, they were off.

Meanwhile, a slight draft in the building caused Erik's forgotten note to dance, falling down from the rafters as it was meant to originally. The Madame, who was slowly finding her way out, caught a glance of it out of the corner of her eye. She turned, to her disbelief watching it gracefully touch down on the floor. She looked around, and found it safe to go investigate. There were only a few people left, some gossiping adults and two teenagers in the back. Antoinette bent down to the best of her ability and picked it up, unfolding the paper. She read it and her eyes grew wide. She reread it, looked around, and then tucked it in her pocket, not sure whether she was relieved or not.

The note read:

_**Beaure,**_

_**We're alive, and waiting for you.**_

_**-Phantom**_

* * *

><p>It was Christine's turn to be stunned. "You <em>what?"<em>

"Yes, I helped him escape prison. And I would've done it again," I said, starting my long confession to her. I'd leave out the bit about how Erik and I had become so intimately close, because I don't really think she could handle it. The very man who had obsessed over her unconditionally was now my own obsession, and she might faint upon hearing such a thing.

"Have you gone _mad?"_ Christine whispered with panic in her voice. "He's a murderer, and insane! How could you help him go free?"

"My mother knew him, helped save him the first time," I tried explaining.

"You helped him escape multiple times?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"No, I mean before I knew you. She rescued him from a freakshow, saved his life and brought him to the opera. But that's not what's important. There's a man, an evil ex-gendarme named George Beaure, and he's trying to find us. We've been on the run from him for months, and he isn't afraid to kill anyone who stands in his way of killing us. He tried killing us once, but we survived, and now he's trying to throw my mother in jail. So if you would please excuse me, Christine, I really need to go to the courthouse and save her." I tried standing up again, and Christine didn't stop me. She had a look of horror plastered on her face.

"I still don't understand, Meg," she said quietly. "Why is this man chasing you? And why on earth would you follow the Phantom? He could kill you, or just as easily turn his obsession from me to you. You don't know the Phantom I did, he was a monster, a beast! He tried making me his bride, and he'd do the same to you."

I almost smiled, wishing that he would. "I promise that I'll tell you if I survive, but you have to let me go. My mother's life could be at risk at this very moment."

"Can't I help? And how on earth did you get away from the Phantom?" Christine asked, rising up too.

"I didn't. Like I said, I must tell you later, it's far too dangerous right now for a lengthy explanation. Please, Christine, if you care for me or my mother, you'll give me a carriage to ride into the city," I begged.

"If the worst happens, we can bail your mother out of jail. We have the money, it'll be fine!" Christine explained. "I just need to have you tell me what is going on. Who is Monsieur Beaure? And what if the Phantom finds you again?"

"Money is how this whole thing started!" I said angrily. "It certainly won't be the solution! If I must walk to Paris, then so be it!" I began walking towards the door, but Christine put her hand gently on my shoulder. I stopped and turned almost exasperatedly. The look on her face was blank, except for her eyes, which gleamed with fear.

"Meg, don't go. He'll find you, then find me, or make you love him. You don't have someone like Raoul to protect you from him. I don't want you to leave," she begged quietly. I really didn't want to tell her, but she needed a big enough shock to let me go free.

"He won't make me love him, I can promise you that," I said, looking into her eyes. "Because I already do."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sorry for a such a late update, but I hope this chapter made up for it! :D<em>**

**_Merry Christmas,_**

**_Aktress._**


	24. Breaking Point

**_Chapter 24: Breaking Point_**

* * *

><p><em>"Meg, don't go. He'll find you, then find me, or make you love him. You don't have someone like Raoul to protect you from him. I don't want you to leave," she begged quietly. I really didn't want to tell her, but she needed a big enough shock to let me go free. "He won't make me love him, I can promise you that," I said, looking into her eyes. "Because I already do."<em>

I was right in the sense that my words shocked Christine. "You... I-I... Meg, don't joke with me," she said in a dark voice, her normal airy tone gone completely. "Don't even say something like that."

I pulled my shoulder away from her hand that was still placed there. "I'm sorry, but I need to go!" I hurried over to the door before she could delay me from saving my mother even further. Hiking my dress up to walk, I opened the door, ready to hurry away, when who but the last person I ever wanted to see stood at the door.

I screamed and slammed the door closed onto Beaure's equally surprised face. I spun around, pressing my back hard against the door. Christine had stood up, her face pale and confused. "Meg, what's going on?" she asked for the millionth time in the hour. I couldn't think straight, I simply couldn't. Whatever was left of the original plan was shattered. Beaure knew I was still alive, and our never-ending chase would begin again. That is, if I ever survived this day.

"Christine, can we lock this door?" I panicked. It took her a moment, but Christine finally shook her head 'No'. I moaned, and Beaure pounded on the door. "Then bring a chair over, quickly!" I hissed. She blinked in surprise.

"Meg, you're ill. You're delusional, it's just a guest! Open the door," Christine said like she was speaking to a child. It made me angry, and maybe I had no right to be cross with her, but I still was.

"It's that madman, George Beaure! I don't know how he's knows we're alive, but he's come for me! If you don't do something you're going to get us all killed!" I snapped back. Christine looked hurt and confused, and a various array of emotions crossed her face. But she stood there and did nothing. Beaure had gone from pounding on the door to pushing the door open. I tried with all my might to keep it closed, but he was too strong. "Christine!" But my cry for help was too late, and Beaure squeezed himself in and the door loudly slammed closed on air.

My back pressed to the back of the door, I breathed hard while staring up at Beaure, who's face was red with fury. "You... how...?" he breathed, as though seeing the ghost of an unwanted fiend. I didn't say a word, only stared fearfully back at him. He furrowed his brows and leaned down so close, I felt his breath on my face. "Where is the Phantom? Tell me, did he escape too? You two are like snakes, slithering out of every peril unharmed. I can assure that you won't escape this time."

"Monsieur?" I heard Christine call out. Beaure narrowed his eyes at me, then turned around to face Christine. Christine was still pale, and was grasping her chair for balance. "Would you please have the courtesy to tell me what is going on? I've been trying to get the facts for a few minutes, and have gotten nowhere. I'd like to know what on earth is happening."

In a flash, Beaure was suddenly Monsieur Drake, the flirty, polite cabby that I had known before I realized that he was a monstrosity. "Ah, you must be the Viscountess de Changey! How delightful!" he said cheerfully. "I'm so sorry you have had to go through with this, Madame, I'll make sure to take this murderer away and out of your sight." In a flash, Beaure had pulled me away from the door, grabbing both of my arms and pulling them behind my back.

"Murderer?" Christine gasped.

"Yes, ma'am, a murderer. And very clever one at that, too."

"Don't believe him," I hissed, trying to fight back. "If you have any trust in me, whatsoever, believe me that-" I desperately began pleading, before Beaure jabbed an elbow at my back and interrupted me.

"I am _so _terribly sorry that you've had to witness this, Madame, but if you would please get the door, we can be on our way," he said charmingly. My face began to boil and I wanted so badly to scream with anger at him, but I kept my head and clenched my teeth.

"Don't believe him," I repeated, with a darker tone this time.

"The door, Madame?"

Christine looked as torn as a woman had ever looked. Who could she trust? It looked as though odds were awfully bad on my part. I'd appeared out of nowhere, dirty and untrustworthy, and had led Christine to all this confusion and indecisiveness. To Christine, I must've seemed mentally ill, what with my secrets and the sudden statement that I was in love with the Phantom. I wished that I could travel back in time, only a minute or two, to prevent myself from saying the thing. Maybe I could've escaped without Beaure seeing me. But it was too late now, and it seemed as thought my fate was up to the pale-faced, wide-eyed woman who had up until the big event been almost like a sister to me. I was admittedly worried of Christine's choice. Only later did I realize what little faith I had in her.

"No," she said, quietly at first. Both Beaure and I stopped our coaxing, and I was almost surprised at her words. Beaure looked like he had heard her wrong.

"What?"

"No," she repeated louder, her eyebrows setting and shaking her head. "I will not open the door unless I know you are a real gendarme. I know this woman personally, and have every reason to believe that she's innocent."

Beaure must've been a bit shocked, and I beamed up at Christine, mouthing 'Thank You' at her gratefully. She didn't smile back at me, however. She only stared, her gaze fixated on my captor. Eventually, he found his voice. "Madame de Changey, please, if you'd stop this nonsense and please open the door for me, then-"

"Let her go," Christine said, her voice unfaltering and her gaze determined. The Christine from minutes before was gone, a new, braver side that I'd hardly seen before in her place. It touched my heart that she was fighting for me and was acting so out of her character, and I felt warmth flow through my blood. However, a second later, I heard Beaure growl, then cry out in anger.

"Fine, you want her so badly? Take the witch!" he let my arms go and shoved me forward. I stumbled a little bit, but quickly made my way over to Christine, who had a fire glowing in her eyes.

"Monsieur, I'd like to know where my husband is. I'm sick and tired of not knowing anything that is going on around me in the world. He is keeping secrets from me, Meg is keeping secrets from me, and I'm going to let you explain them to me, before I call one of the servants," Christine commanded.

Although my new respect for Christine had built itself up, she still wasn't precisely aware of how confrontations with villains were. Christine had thought that he would confess everything, and she'd be able to go on with her normal life. I was more experienced with confronting him, however, and expected what happened next. Instead of breaking down and confessing everything, Beaure cracked up into laughter. Christine looked quite unamused.

"You want _me_ to tell you all these secrets? Very well, then," he said, still chortling. "I'll tell you everything in this little conspiracy. Although before that,_ I'd_ like to know where exactly your husband is."

"I know less than you as to that," Christine stated. "All I know is that he was out doing business today. That is the honest truth of all I know."

"You mean he hasn't arrived back, yet?" Beaure beamed. "Excellent, very excellent!" Beaure began to walk about the room, looking out the windows downward, as if calculating a fall. I didn't like the smile on his face, and I don't think that Christine liked it much, either.

"What do you mean by 'Excellent'?" Christine asked. Beaure didn't respond, but however walked up to the fireplace after his inspection of the windows. He then turned to us with a sly grin, then turned to reach up for the swords. My heart froze, and I heard Christine gasp.

"By 'Excellent', I mean that although there's been a slight change in plans, everything will work out excellently," he chuckled, grabbing the longest sword and turned back around to face us. "Oh, Meg, I'm almost glad you didn't drown in the lake. This means I get the satisfaction of running you through with a sword! Imagine how much more satisfying it will be!"

"Oh, my God, Meg," Christine whispered. She was back to her normal self, the brave, fearless act gone. My head was pulsing and I had to hold Christine up as her support.

Beaure took a step closer. "Of course, hunting down your lover after this won't be so hard. He'll want to avenge you, or something tragically brave like that. I'll make sure that you two end up together in the afterlife." A few steps closer. "But then, now I have trouble deciding whether I should make this quick, or slow and painful. Really, I'd rather preform the latter, but I just might not be able to contain myself. Maybe I should just practice with this beauty right here, Madame Bravery." Beaure swung the sword in her direction and her knees collapsed underneath her. I had to catch her before she hit the ground, knees first. Beaure grinned wider. "Not so brave now, are you?"

"I-I-I will scream if you a-attempt such a thing!" Christine squeaked. Beaure laughed.

"Don't worry, I made sure that your dear servants were busy tending to a barn fire, and it required all of them to help. It actually wasted the last of my matches. How rude. But it's quite all right, there's a friendly gendarme here to protect the young Madame and her friend. In fact, let me tell you my original plan," he said, swinging the sword away from us. Christine sighed with relief as Beaure began to recount.

"It wasn't you, Meg, that I was originally after. I figured you were both already in Hell, just waiting for me to eventually join you there. No, it was that oaf of a viscount, Raoul de Chagney. Oh, don't give me that look, Madame, of _course_ your husband. I was bound to kill him, or at least teach him to not interfere with me. He stopped your damn mother's trial, Meg, and for that, he would be sorry. She was about to lead me down to the cavern, anyway! I could be filthy _rich _by now if it weren't for that bastard!"

In the meanwhile, I was beginning to become quite familiar with and expecting of Erik's arrivals just in time to save the day. Needless to say, he didn't fail at that this time, and burst through the door into the room. The three of us turned our attention in that direction, and I heard Christine utter a little shriek. Beaure frowned a little in disgust, and I sighed a little in relief. Of course, his mask was still missing, and that must have been the reason why the reaction throughout the room was so negative. Adding, of course, to the fact that lives were on the line.

He was breathing heavily and his glance darted from me, to Christine, to Beaure, then back to me. "Hello," he breathed.

"Hello. So kind of you to pop in and save the day, dear," I said from my spot across the room.

"All in a day's work, my love," he replied before walking up closer to the scowling Beaure. "Monsieur Beaure." he greeted. "How awful to see you again."

"Likewise," Beaure hissed. All through this comical exchange the three of us had gotten used to, Christine was still standing there, her mouth gaping open the whole time. Whether it was because of Erik's surprise appearance, our almost friendly greetings, or this whole catastrophe, she was shocked. I sighed and turned away from her, looking up to Erik.

"I believe we both know that this won't end anytime soon, so why don't you release the two lovely ladies, and we can all walk away unharmed this time," Erik said to Beaure. Beaure's snarl turned into a smug grin.

"Ah, and that's where you're wrong, Monsieur. I'm growing quite old of this game we're playing. I think it's finally time to close this case. And I can guarantee you that there will only be one of us that will emerge victorious," he purred.

"Then let the end begin," Erik spoke back.

Beaure took a moment to step out of Christine's and my way. We hesitated for a second, staring at him like scared animals. "Well go on! Get out of my way! I'll deal with you two after I kill him." He barked. Christine skittered quickly across the room, but I took a different route, walking as stealthily as I could to the cold fireplace, where the swords hung. I was quiet and quick as I grabbed the second longest sword, with the intention of handing it off to Erik before Beaure had the advantage. Erik shed the cloak that covered his face and body, and took the bag from him as well, tossing both against the wall. That's when an idea came to mind. What if we didn't have to run, or fight anymore? We could all go home, happy and not injured. We only needed to hand the money over to Beaure. We had it with us, why shouldn't we just let him have it?

"Oh, what a joy this will be! In fact, I'm glad you stopped by. Now I can let little Meg watch her love be stabbed to death before her own demise!" he chuckled. "And yes, Meg, I can see you. You don't have to be sneaky about getting him a sword." I blushed as all three pairs of eyes were on me. "But, I am, or at one point was, a gentleman. So grab your own sword. It'll be highly less satisfying if I had an advantage. I like to win fair and square."

Erik was cautious to walk over to me, keeping his glance on Beaure in case of a surprise attack. He backed up to me and took the sword from my hands, then leaned down to my ear. "Stay safe. Don't do or let Christine do anything foolish."

"Listen, Erik. You don't have to do this. No one has to be hurt. Just give him the money," I whispered. He looked at me like I had gone mad.

"After all of_ this_? After everyone who has died, you want it to all be in vain? This runs much deeper than the money now. He can have the damned bag all he wants, but he's tasted blood. He won't stop at this game until the both of us are dead," he whispered back.

I looked up, a tear in my eye. "I can't loose you."

Erik was quick to plant a kiss on my lips. "I love you. Remember that. Now stay safe."

"You stay safe too. End this once and for all," I mumbled back. He stood back up to his full height, equipped with his weapon. I scurried over to Christine, who was leaning against the wall, nearly in a faint. I tried to stand her up, but she only looked up at me in fear.

"Meg, what's going on? I'm so scared, I don't know what to do!" she panicked, hugging her arms tightly around herself.

"It'll be all right Christine, Erik will save us," I comforted her, although when I looked up, I wasn't so sure. They were both standing with their swords, but they looked still as statues. I was glad that Erik had taken those sword fighting lessons from Zachary, but I wondered how skilled Beaure was. Did Erik have enough skill or ability to finally beat him? I was genuinely worried for us all, and only patted Chrstine's shoulder as comfortingly as I could.

"Is that his name? Erik?" Christine said, the panic in her voice dropping just a little. I realized that she'd never before known his name. What a thing to imagine. His obsession had gone so out of control that it resulted in the deaths of innocents, and she didn't even know his name. It only showed how insane Erik had really been, and how clouded his mind was. Christine didn't know the Erik I knew, she only knew the nameless horror that cursed all of humanity and was ready to slaughter millions to get what he wanted.

"Yes," I muttered back, my attention still focused on the men, who stood with narrowed eyes and still positions. The two men mumbled words to each other that I didn't quite catch, and then all of the sudden, both launched into action, and I flinched as the two swords clashed together. Christine jumped too, and clung to me like a child. I didn't blame her, because I was frozen stiff with fear. What if none of us made it, excepting Beaure? What if Erik lost, and then Beaure proceeded to kill Christine and I? My mother would die of a broken heart, and Raoul... I hadn't seen him in so long or knew him well enough to know, but I could imagine that it would shock him more than he deserved to see his new wife's bloodied corpse on the floor of his sitting room. I tried to refrain from thinking such awful thoughts, and focused on the battle in front of me.

There wasn't much room for a sword fight in the sitting room, but the two men managed. Beaure was jumping all over the place and swinging his sword towards Erik. He didn't look as though he knew much of what he was doing, but whatever it was, I knew that it was still dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than if he actually _did_ know what he was doing. Erik must've been thinking the same thing, and kept blocking the attacks with his sword. Beaure was grinning the whole time, insanity glimmering in his eyes.

"How long have we been playing this game, Phantom?" Beaure cried out. "Months, I imagine! It's seemed like forever!"

"All the more reason to end it," Erik growled, blocking another ferocious attack. "I can't imagine a life not on the run from you, but it sounds wonderful."

"Ah, but in a matter of time, you will be wondering what life itself used to be like," Beaure laughed. "I might even miss you two. I'll have to find another person to prey on just to satisfy my need for a chase like this."

"Oh yes, you're quite welcome for the exhilaration and fun," Erik grunted, swinging his own sword with feigned expertise close to Beaure's face. I flinched as he cried out, and I closed my eyes, afraid to see what the damage was. I dared open one eyes, and it was only a scratch across the cheek. Erik hadn't done any real damage, but Beaure looked enraged. He reached up to touch the cut gingerly, and hissed as he pulled his bloodied finger away.

Beaure hissed, and gripped his sword tighter, running at him with incredible speed, sword stuck out like a joust. He let out a loud cry, and stabbed the sword at Erik. Then, everything was quiet.

My mind spun, and it was my turn to almost faint. I leaned against the wall and gasped, trying to blink the scene away. Christine screamed and actually did fall to the floor. As for Beaure, he only grinned wider an began to laugh. Erik's face was frozen in a look of mixed shock and fear. He looked down at the sword that was sticking in his side, and let out a cry of rage and pain as he fell over into a growing pool of dark crimson blood. My own scream soon accompanied Christine and Erik's. A piece of me died inside as I watched Erik in front of my eyes, suffer in such a barbaric way. The look on Beaure's face was clear evidence that this really was our last battle, and that only one person would emerge victorious.

Erik was going to die.

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><p><em><strong>Yes, I know, I'm a horrible human being for not publishing anything sooner, but the most severe case of writer's block had hit me in the head with a brick. School (mainly my social studies class) is also a huge barrier between me and my writing. But I'm back, and a new chapter won't be as long a wait as this one was. :P Also, I just entered a Young Writer's Competition. I won first place, and $100, last year, so hopefully I'll place first again. *crosses fingers* Wish me luck, and hope to hear from you in a review!<strong>_

_**Best Wishes,**_

_**Aktress.**_


	25. Turning Point

_**Chapter 25: Turning Point**_

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><p>So there the four of us were. Beaure, Erik, Christine, and I. Beaure was laughing and grinning like he had cracked open a pinita, Erik lay on the ground, grunting and trying not to cry out in pain, Christine shaking with fear on the ground, and my own head spinning, not able to tear my gaze from the horror before me. Every instinct of mine told me to run. I'd been so close to death before, and had seen people killed before my own eyes, but never before had such an awful thing happened. Whether it was Beaure's laughing that set me off or the sight of my love suffering in a pool of his own, crimson blood, it was the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life.<p>

I tried to yell, but I only let out a cracked, "No." Beaure, still chuckling, turned to me.

"Yes," he laughed. "I've waited so long for this, and now it only gets better."

I could only stand there, gasping and gaping. It was like a horrible train wreck. I couldn't tear my eyes from the body or the growing pile of blood. To my own horror, Beaure began walking towards him. "Don't touch him!" I cried, my voice shrill and cracked. He grinned back at me as he stopped by Erik's side.

"Oh, no, Meg. I'm doing him a favour," Beaure purred as he took hold of the handle on the sword. Christine and I both shrieked as the sound of the sword being pulled out of flesh hit our ears. The sight before me was a gruesome one, possibly worse than before. Tearing the sword out had only damaged him even more, and let the blood flow ever more freely. Erik's white shirt was beyond all hope ruined, and worked as well as a full sponge to soak in the blood. He was gasping, and tears began to flow from my eyes. "He won't be needing that where he's going."

Suddenly, everything slowed. The world around me came into focus. Christine was leaning against the wall, sunken to the floor. Her formerly perfect hair had little wisps darting out every which way. The face that had been so happy less than an hour ago, every speck of perfect pearl-white powder right in place, was now reddening, and becoming wet. Tears streamed down her face, only causing the loose hairs to stick like glue to her tear stained cheeks. The silent drops rolled freely, like her eyes had sprung a leak and she wasn't completely aware of it. She had been through so much in the span of a year that it was ridiculous. A delicate girl of her kind and age, it was a miracle she was alive. Any sensible woman would've gone mad. I suppose that neither her or I was sensible enough for that kind of relief. But this was too much for her, too soon, and all at once. I couldn't blame her for being shocked into silence. The new Madame de Chagney should not be subjected to this sort of torture.

Beaure, the nasty, vile creature that stood before me had his hand wrapped around the hilt of Raoul's sword. The sword itself was a beautiful creature. It's handle was the colour of polished gold, and it's blade as shining silver as a piece of jewellery in the sunlight. It tried in vain to gleam, but was dimmed by the thick blood that dripped and stained the sword's blade. The blood of the late Phantom of the Opera. Erik was considered by the world a monster. He had the face children dream up in a nightmare, was known what I supposed was worldwide as a mass murderer and personal stalker of Christine Daae. He was foul, evil, and a beast. Beaure was a gendarme, of all people. Considered by not just one, but the whole public as a person of high authority. People trusted him. He wasn't cursed with a face like Erik, but indeed had a face that could've earned him many a girl, if he had not his cruel heart. As I looked at the scene before me, I without a doubt knew who the monster really was.

Then Erik. My dear Erik. Dying before my very eyes. He looked straight at me with each heaving breath he took, his golden-green eyes staring straight into mine. I'd gone from fearing those eyes to trusting them with my life. I tried my hardest not to look, but I saw the wound. The part of the shirt where he had been stabbed was a darker shade of crimson than the rest. The blood kept spilling in a waterfall that seemed as endless as Christine's tears. As the atrocious pool grew, as each second passed, Erik's death was closer. I knew that my last kiss with him had passed. And as he stared at me, I stared back at him. As time itself froze, one second passing gave me enough time to think enough thoughts to fill a novel. As I stared at Erik, I saw him carefully mouth, "Be brave."

It was my breaking point and my turning point. I looked around, and for once didn't only see the fancy curtains and expensive, dainty china which held lukewarm tea. I saw everything. Opportunity, madness, horror, passion, and heartbreak. What I saw I put together, and followed Erik's words. Be brave. If it was too late to save Erik, I would get Christine out alive, and I would kill Beaure if I had to damned kill myself as well. Ideas popped up everywhere. Erik's sword that had been abandoned in the disaster, a faint spring breeze blowing in from a window that had been cracked to let air in, the smoke that rose in the sky from Beaure's fire, they all fit together. It was a puzzle, and I had only to fit the last few pieces in myself.

So I did what was by far the bravest and stupidest thing I'd ever done. I stood up from the wall, willing my legs to be strong enough to carry this through for me. "Christine," I said in a low voice. "Care for him. Keep him alive, if you can. This is my fight now." I took my steps with some sort of force, making my way to Erik. I bent to pick up the sword, which was now also beginning to soak in blood. Disregarding this, I took the handle by my hand, and curled my fingers around it, pulling it up to the level of my breast. Crimson droplets rained down back into the rest of the blood, and I clenched my teeth to keep from hissing in disgust.

Beaure, who had looked mildly surprised at first, was now laughing, guffawing harder than when he ran Erik through with the sword. But I kept my face straight. When he saw this, he half-chuckling asked, "Damn, you're really serious?"

"As death itself. You send people to death, and in return, it seems your own happiness is ensured. So why don't you send your good friend one more present? You, or me. Either way this ends, death will claim another victim by the end of this day," I said with the passion that had fuelled my ideas, only making my energy gleam brighter. Beaure's face looked a mix of surprise, smug humour, and a thirst for blood.

"I accept your challenge, Meg. Boldly spoken for a girl with no experience in sword fighting," he taunted, holding his own sword high and beginning to circle me.

"I'm not afraid any more, if that's where you're trying to get at," I replied, holding my own sword, and following Beaure's every movement, turning in a circle with him.

"I merely mean that such brave words are all for nothing if the battle one fights is hopeless and lost before it began," Beaure shot back.

"No one can predict the future, Monsieur," I said with even expression. "No battle is lost before it is fought"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Meg's words had finally hit Christine, and she was in the process of running up to the bloody figure with a mix of fear, terror, and somewhat pity. She quickly wiped her damp face and bit her lip, trying hard not to shake as she sat on her knees, carefully avoiding the blood pool. It was with feigned courage that she looked at his face. It was horrible. The mix of disfigurement and blood made him look like a creature from God-knows-where, and she let out a little whimper. Knowing that this was the man that had lusted after her not so long ago, and that he and Meg were currently in some form of a misshapen relationship made her head spin, and she had to rest one hand on the floor just to keep her balance.<p>

Christine sucked her breath in as Erik's eyes darted quickly to her. She felt uneasy as he stared at her, and was beginning to feel the sense of panic again. "I-I... Erik? Is... is that your name?" Christine breathed.

Erik only grunted. Christine felt foolish asking such a question at a time like this, and after a moment's hesitation, stood up and tore one of her beautiful draperies down. She then hurried back over, catching a glimpse at the dramatic fighting before her. She felt a tear run down her cheek, but managed to make it back over to Erik and placed the drapery over him. She didn't press down because she didn't know if it would hurt him, and was too scared to touch the blood. She was feeling faint already, as it was. She bit her lip and stared at the horrible sight in front of her. His contorted face was becoming even more twisted. But as he gasped, he looked up at Christine again. Although she shivered with fear, she didn't look away.

"You... you are happy now," Erik grunted. "With Raoul."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and it took Christine somewhat by surprise. "Y-yes, I am happy now."

"Good," Erik sighed. "You are... still as beautiful..." He began coughing and tried to speak, but couldn't get the words out.

"What? What is it?" she whispered, blushing a little from his compliment, and from the pressure and intensity of the situation.

"Get... get..." he choked out, trying not to cry out in pain. "Get him."

Christine was a bit shocked at first. Raoul? Her husband? But he was out, how would she...? Then she turned her head to the window. Smoke still danced up from the fire that Beaure had set. Her eyes lit up again and she quickly wiped her tears away. She stood and looked down to Erik, nodding. He grunted, nodded, and closed his eyes again. In a flash, Christine darted out of the room and was running as quickly as she could down the grand staircase. Meg and Beaure, locked in combat, didn't take any notice.

* * *

><p>"To think all of this could've been prevented, if only you had given me the money in the beginning," Beaure grinned, throwing the sword out towards my right arm. I saw it coming, and just barely blocked it.<p>

"Dreadful, huh?" I countered, trying to find an opportunity to strike. "What fun would that be?"

"You bring a good point, Meg," he grunted, thrusting the sword without result. "But hasn't this bloodshed been for nothing?"

"Yes, it _has_ been for nothing," I snapped. "But the past can't be changed, and the least I can do is avenge all the blood that's been spilled." Beaure only grinned, and swung his sword around some more.

"Blood for blood? You're not really solving anything, girly," Beaure taunted. I just pursed my lips and resumed blocking kamikaze swings.

* * *

><p>Raoul de Chagney had actually been having a good day. Sure, the fire he'd come home to was a bit unexpected and a slight inconvenience, but the shed that had caught on fire was only slightly damaged, and the contents weren't of high value or importance. As the lot of the house's servants finished dousing the fire and clearing the smoke, Raoul stood a short distance away, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and throwing his overcoat over his shoulder, all while still balancing a top hat atop his neatly cut hair, much shorter than he usually wore. He supposed he'd try a new style, and his wife said the shorter hair and small moustache he was growing suited him.<p>

There was the slightest breeze that allowed the grass to sway, and Raoul noticed a few wisps of white cloud among the smoke that was beginning to clear itself away. He sighed, and watched as his valet, a Mister Peter Dickson, made his way over to Raoul. The lean and thoughtful man was in a bit of a fluster, and began babbling his apologies.

"Master de Chagney, I'm terribly sorry that this whole event had to occur. Personally, I see no motive for how the cursed fire even began! I do hope that-"

"Yes, thank you, Dickson. Now, if you'd please, I've had a very busy morning and I'd like the spend the rest of the day in peace. Would you tell the rest of the household that when they finish, they're to report back to their own duties. Johnny and Robert are permitted to stay after and begin repairs on the barn," Raoul said to his valet, who stopped speaking, and nodded after listening to the man's words.

"Of course, Vicomte de Chagney. I'll be right on it, monsieur," Dickson replied and was quickly onto getting back to the barn. The corner of the Vicomte's mouth curled up a little at his faithful servant. If he hadn't a trusty valet like Dickson, he didn't know what he's do, or where'd he get a laugh from. Dickson was obedient, but took his job much more serious than he needed.

Raoul turned back towards his home to make the short journey back when he saw the figure of a person running towards him from the house. He was a bit baffled when he realized that the figure was wearing fancy dress, and was even more shocked when he realized it was his wife. Still a bit baffled, Raoul was still for a few moments as Christine ran towards him at a speed he had rarely seen her run. After a moment of recovery, he began slowly jogging towards her. She looked in a state of distress, and all of the drama from the previous one or two hours were forgotten as his whole attention was turned to Christine.

Eventually, they met each other, and as Raoul expected her to rush forward and embrace him, she stopped dead a foot or two in front of him. With a surprised look, he only stared for a moment. "Christine, my love, what's wrong?"

She didn't speak, and Raoul took a closer look at her. Her hair was dishevelled and was misplaced from her normally flawless appearance. Her face was pale and red at the same time, and her makeup was stained with tears. She had a look of horror and sadness in her eyes, and her lip was neatly kept in a thin line.

"Christine?"

Christine's face finally broke, and tears began to flow again. She bit her lip and took a sharp breath in.

"Oh, Raoul... it's horrible."

* * *

><p>Beaure smirked and let out an odd little laugh. I was panicked in the slightest. He had me without my sword, and odds were not looking good at all. I looked longingly in the direction of the sword where it had landed after becoming airborne. Beaure caught my gaze, but just smiled. "Caught you," he purred, and in a flash, the blade in Beaure's hand was up to my throat, threateningly poised dangerously close to my skin. The panic grew as my body froze in fear. Beaure had already proved that his sword-fighting skills were not of the highest, and the last thing I wanted was an unintentional slip of the blade. Or even intentional, for that matter. I had backed against the wall, and my hands grasped at it desperately for some kind of escape that wasn't likely to come. Beaure then tore his gaze off me to look towards poor Erik, who was still suffering. My own eyes turned towards him, and it was all my heart could do to not implode itself out of the pain his expression brought. The pain was mostly from the wound, I could tell, but it was also from how bleak this situation looked. It was unlikely either of us was going to make it, and our connection of sight felt like forever and nothing. Beaure, being the rude, arrogant arse he was, interrupted our bond. "Good, the great and powerful Phantom can watch while I do this."<p>

"Are you going to behead me or drive me through?" I snarled, snapping my gaze from Erik to Beaure. But the look in Beaure's eyes reminded me of somewhat insanity, and that awful smile was still plastered to his face.

"Actually, what I'm about to do will be far more painful for your lover than that," Beaure hissed, and without warning, drew the sword back from my neck and shoved his face onto mine. My eyes grew wide with surprise, and when I finally came to my senses, I tried to fight him back. My struggles were to no avail, as his hands held my arms firmly by my side and my legs were pressed to the wall by his. I tried to move my head, but he only tried to kiss me deeper. It was one of the most horrifying experiences that I'd ever had the displeasure to experience.

Eventually, he had had his fill, and with snakelike speed drew his face back and sighed. He turned his head towards Erik, who's pained expression was now more enraged than anything. "You bastard!" Erik managed to cry out. Beaure smiled a smug smile, and brought the sword back up. "You know, Meg, if you hadn't resisted so much, you might've enjoyed your last kiss," Beaure said snootily. I was so angry at him that I couldn't resist the urge to spit right in his face. So that's exactly what I did.

The look on Beaure's face was priceless, and I might've smiled, given the situation was different. In his surprise and shock, his eyes began flaming, and he slowly wiped the spit from his cheek. He stared at me with alarming rage and hissed, "No matter what I do, you're always be a little bitch, won't you?" I kept a firm lip and didn't speak. "Well, then, I guess this is the end of our game. Goodbye, Mademoiselle!" He raised the sword a bit higher and was ready to strike.

It was all so slow, and it gave me time to think again. My mind was numb, but still, a million thoughts rushed by. What a life I'd led. So much excitement, romance, adventure, I really couldn't complain. The pain might've been worth it. Still, I didn't want to die. When Erik and I had finally found each other, I couldn't imagine how I'd lived without him. Now, just a week or so later, we were both on the edge of death. Just a week of really knowing him truly, that's all I was granted. It was already time to say goodbye. So I didn't look at Beaure as the sword was raised, I looked to my love. He was already looking at me, his pale face mirrored pain, anger, but most of all, hopelessness. I couldn't muster a smile, given the circumstances, and couldn't help the tears that were blurring my vision.

The sword was about to pierce through my body when the door crashed open. Momentarily, all of our attentions were occupied, and Beaure and I quickly turned our heads towards the disturbance. Erik, was of course, in no way fit to turn quite as quickly as us. But what I saw in the door was almost like an angel from heaven itself. I almost sighed out of pure relief. There were even a few beams of sunlight that shone in from the hallway that gave Raoul de Chagney a sort of heavenly glow. He looked fiercer than I'd ever seen him, and some kind of passion and intelligence glowed in his eyes among rage. Raoul was quick to take in the room before him, and his gaze darted from the bloodied body on the floor to Beaure, at which he frowned.

"George Beaure. What an unexpected surprise, though I can't fathom why the devil you're in my sitting room," Raoul said with genuine bewilderment. I heard Beaure mutter a few curses under his breath.

"Monsieur de Chagney, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again," he scowled. I felt his grip on me tighten, then loosen a bit.

"I'll have to ask you to step away from the girl immediately," Raoul commanded.

Beaure's grip tightened again. "Why should I?" he snarled. "I've every reason to hate each and every one of you in the room, none of your lives are of any value."

"Because if you don't," Raoul said, quick to draw a revolver from his pocket. "Then I'm afraid your own life will be at risk."

Beaure was silent for a moment, then began to smile and laugh. "Monsiuer, I don't believe you know the whole story. Over the course of the past few months, the only thing I've wanted to do is end the lives of the two people before you. Once I've assured that, then I don't fear for my own life. I can die happy, knowing that I'll be following these two to hell."

"Are you so sure about that? What if I shot right now? You'd have no time to slice her neck," Raoul said with complete composition. I was shocked at how brave he was, though I supposed the man had been through enough that he would've picked up a few things about encounters.

"You wouldn't," Beaure sneered. "Assuming you miss me and hit the girl?"

"I can assure you I wouldn't miss."

"All the quicker to kill her," Beaure hissed, pressing the blade closer and I let out a small involuntary cry. Raoul's sight darted to me, and I could see a bit of concern in his look. I saw Christine behind Raoul, not completely out of sight, but enough that she'd be on the scene if anything happened.

"But what about me?" Raoul asked. "Haven't you a grudge against me as well? Am I to be let off easy?"

Beaure's grip loosened slowly. "I... well, yes. I mean, no, you're not getting off so easy. It's-" Beaure was frustrated, suddenly seeing his new problem. I supposed he was trying to think of how he could kill me, assure Erik's death, and murder the viscount as well.

"Then fight me," Raoul spoke, stepping into the room for the first time, exposing Christine from behind him. She was trembling a bit, and holding onto the doorway. "Winner takes all. If you win, you have the satisfaction of killing the girl and me. But if I win, then your own life will be taken."

Beaure looked almost thoughtful. A small smile crossed Raoul's face. "With the stakes so high, how could you refuse a last bet?"

Finally, Beaure clawed my arm for a split second, leaving fingernail marks, then stepping away from me, taking the blade from the space surrounding my neck. I took a gasp of air and sighed, relief flooding my body. "I accept your challenge, Monsiuer. Grab your sword, before I change my mind." Beaure snapped, obviously irritated by the suddenly appearance, even if it meant he could kill more people to satisfy his thirst for blood.

What happened between the two of them next was quite irrelevant to me, as my attention was fully drawn to Erik. I nearly tripped over myself running to him. I collapsed on my knees beside him and felt the tears beginning to fall. I hadn't even remembered them welling up in my eyes, they were just suddenly there. "Erik, oh, Lord. Oh, _Lord._" I cried softly. He was still alive, but I could tell he was loosing too much blood, even with all the various cloths over him that tried in vain to soak up the crimson pools.

His breathing was shallow, and I dared not try and kiss him for fear that I might kiss him his own death. It was one of the most painful moments I can remember, feeling so helpless. "Erik... what can I do?" I whispered to him, gingerly taking grasp of one pale hand. I heard a sharp gasp from him as he tried to speak.

"M...Meg... thank you," he sighed. "For life again."

"No," I nearly growled. "No, don't say that. You're not going to die, we can save you still. Don't try and say your last words."

He tried to chuckle, but began gasping for breath again. "No... hear me out. You saved my meaningless life... you changed the way I look at the world...at people, at you... you made me a better person and showed me... that there will always... be someone... out there."

I couldn't speak, and my throat burned from trying to hold back the tears, which flowed anyways. "You... I love you, Meg. For the short, blissful time that I really knew you... it was the best time of my life."

"Shush!" I sniffed, my voice cracking. "Stop saying that! You're going to live. We'll make it out, and we can run away. Far from Paris, we can go to America, to New York or Boston or London or Dublin. We can get married, have a family and a normal life without all this running, if you only have the will to live!"

Erik smiled up at me a pained smile. He was in so much pain, I could clearly see it. "Even... if we did... make it. All the way to Dublin... we could never live a normal life. You know that."

"Then I don't want a normal life. I just want one with you," I murmured. "Please..."

Suddenly, the roars of the men brought me back to the reality of the fight that was going on just a few paces away from us. I tore my eyes almost unwillingly from Erik to the battle, where Raoul was gritting his teeth and clashing swords with Beaure. The sound of metal clanging against metal resounded through the room, and I cringed at their latest clash.

Suddenly, Christine was running from the door towards me. She nearly ran into me as she stopped and took her place by my side. I was a bit startled by her sudden movement, and looked at her with wide eyes. She looked back with her beautiful doe brown eyes, full of concern and fear. "Meg, is there anything we can do?" she whispered fearfully.

Before I could even think, Raoul cried out, "Christine! Get away from here!"

"Let the lady be, this isn't her fight," Beaure hissed and tried to get a swing in. Raoul blocked it and looked to the three of us again.

"Christine, away! I can't have you risking yourself or the child!" Raoul roared, then turned his attention back to his fight. My blood suddenly ran cold and I stared at Christine.

"Child?" I nearly squeaked.

Christine gave me a very weak smile. "Surprise!" she said meekly. "That was what I was going to tell you before all of... this."

"You're with child?" I nearly hissed at her. "What on earth are you thinking, being here? Your husband is perfectly right, get away!"

Christine opened her mouth to speak before we both heard Raoul cry out in pain. Both of us expected the worst and turned to see what damage had been received. Thank the Lord, it was only a scratch across his shirt, and it didn't look too deep at all. We both sighed with relief, glad that our last hero hadn't fallen yet.

With some expertise, Raoul moved his sword with somewhat grace, striking against Beaure's. After one or two blows, Raoul finally struck the sword so hard that it flew right out of Beaure's hands and across the room the opposite end of us. Beaure had a surprised look upon his face, unable to believe that Raoul had bested him. Raoul had somewhat of a smug and relieved look on his face. "Monsieur, since I am a gentleman, I will offer you a second chance. You go with a swear to leave our presence, and disappear from this city, and your life will be spared."

Beaure snarled at him like a wild animal. What was left of Monsieur Drake, the charming cabby that I'd met once upon a time, was nearly gone. The person standing before us was more animal than man. "I'm sick of your offers, I'll kill you with my bare hands!" he growled and ran for Raoul with his hands outstretched like he was going to try and fit them around Raoul's neck.

Without another choice, what Raoul did was something I thought highly impossible for quite a while. With one smooth twist of the sword, Monsieur Beaure's heart was pierced and ceased beating forever. The ferocious look on his face turned into shock before he dropped to the ground like a stone, dead. He bled from the wound where the sword had impaled him, sword still sticking through both sides of his body.

I gasped, not sure what to feel. It was almost too surreal for me to grasp. The man who had murdered so many, had made attempts on our lives and the lives of our loved ones, was finally dead.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm a horrible updater. But I DO have some good news. I'm rewriting some of the older chapters because at a glance, they're quite frankly terrible. So I'll let you know when and what'll be changed. I'll also be cutting a lot of my ramblings down here, so I'll keep this one short as well. There's only a couple chapters let to go, can't wait until I hear from you all again!<strong>_


	26. Bittersweet Symphony

_**Chapter 26: Bittersweet Symphony**_

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><p>The shocked face upon Beaure's corpse as it fell with a thud to the ground was something that would haunt me the rest of my life. The man who had caused others faces to contort up as they fell to their own lifeless knees was getting his just deserts, but it was still a horrifying thing to witness. I watched as the body landed on the wooden flooring, collapsing one last time.<p>

The room was silent for a good five seconds, waiting for Beaure to breathe, or spring back back up, but no. He was dead. Raoul cautiously stepped forward, and drew his sword out from the front of Beaure. Christine whimpered a little as tiny blood droplets rained through the air. Her arms almost collapsed under her leaning form. The ethereal feeling that bubbled up inside myself almost caused me to forget that there were much more dramatic things happening than the death of Beaure. Which was saying quite a bit, actually.

I turned around, my back to the horrifying death of our enemy, to the even more horrifying death of Erik. His eyes were closed, the same contorted look of pain screwing his face up into a knot. He was breathing still, but the chance of survival was not looking good at all. He was loosing so much blood, and there were little to no cloths left to try and ease the bleeding. I suppose it was apparent by now that Erik was going to die, but my strong will wouldn't believe it.

"Christine, go fetch a doctor, or a nurse, or someone who can help him," I commanded. The young woman sat, the words still trying to sink in. "Please, go!"

"Meg... he won't-"

"Please!" I begged, tears welling up again. "We can still save him!"

Christine looked highly doubtful, and glanced down to me as she stood up, like she was sorry for the pitiful creature crying over a hopeless cause. She gave Raoul a look, and I turned to see Raoul nod. Christine nodded back and solemnly hurried from the room, obediently. It was astonishing in itself that neither of us had fainted. I'd never come close to this much blood in my life, and I don't believe Christine had any experience with so much blood either. I thanked God for our strong stomachs.

Once again, my attention was back to Erik. "Erik... can you hear me?" I whispered softly. There was little response, merely a gasped 'yes'. Tears were fully falling now, each droplet finding it's way down to plop on Erik's bloodstained clothing. I began to sob and could not speak. It was all so horrifying, and completely unfair. We couldn't celebrate the end of our adventure involving Beaure because it was the end of my adventure with Erik.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Raoul, a distressed expression upon his face. "Meg... Giry? Correct?"

"Yes," I said quietly, my voice strained from tears.

"You knew him well," Raoul commented softly.

"Know," I snapped. "I know him well. We're... we're going to make it." But I was positive that this was the end.

"Of course," Raoul murmured.

"Can't we... don't we have something to stop the bleeding?" I asked desperately. "We can still make it."

Raoul looked at the drapes his wife had torn down, and with a sigh, went to go tear down another down from the windows. I dragged myself up towards Erik's head, caressing it and weeping. "I love you," I choked. "We're going to make it."

Erik looked up at me with tired eyes, a smiled a very small smile amidst his pain. "Do... you remember... when Zachary and Estela... used to pretend... to be hurt... to make each... other feel bad?" I did. Zachary and Estela would horseplay and one would feign hurt, making the other feel bad, the other jumping up and laughing at their childish trickery a few moments later.

Poor Zachary and Estela, that reminded me of Kristen and Didier... and when I was injured once at the camp. That's when it hit me: Erik _could_ be saved.

"My God!" I cried out, my hands flying up to my mouth. For the first time in an hour or so, I laughed. Raoul looked towards me as if I was crazy, and I'm sure Erik had no clue what was going on.

"Meg?" Raoul asked, worry coating his voice.

"The plant!" I laughed! "That wonderful plant!" As quickly as I could, I leaped to my feet and ran towards the forgotten bag in the corner. My hands were shaking as I attempted to find my ballet slipper somewhere in the depths of the bag. Polly Parker's Plant! How on _earth _could I forget?

I felt dizzy with excitement and from the sudden burst of exhilaration, and my fingertips couldn't have touched the small, dry, miraculous leaves too soon. The moment I felt one of the leaves gently poking my finger back, I snatched it up and ran back to Erik, cautious not to step on the blood litering the floor.

"Erik, please. You have to believe me when I say that there's a chance," I said, my voice wavering and a smile plastered across my face. I must've looked like a mad old woman, because out of the corner of my eye, Raoul's face showed that he was clearly confused and revolted. "Eat it! If one leaf can heal my finger, then these might be able to save you."

Erik was unresponsive, and I began to panic. Quickly, I placed one of the plants in his open mouth. He was clearly unable to chew it himself, given the grave circumstances, so I gently took hold of his pale jaw and tried to chew it myself. In my panic, I wasn't quite sure how many leaves I made him chew or tried to get him to swallow. It didn't look like it was doing much good whatsoever, and my blood ran cold again with the all too familiar feeling of hopelessness and dread.

"Stay with me!" I tried yelling, though my voice caught in my throat, and came as a forced whisper. "Please... please..."

Raoul's hand was placed on my shoulder again. "Meg... you have to face the fact. He's not-"

I shrugged his shoulder away violently and looked up at him, my eyes glimmering with tears, but still hard as rock and cold as ice.

"Raoul, you're a clever man. You know who this person is, you're not so ignorant to not know he's the late Phantom of the Opera. In a similar way, you should know that he's been through danger, has been tried, tested, snapped, and broken before, and he's one of the strongest men who ever lived. If he can't survive, I don't see how any of us can. This man is a genius, a prodigy, and yet cursed. Such an intricate wonder, and a powerful, fiery soul can not be put out quite yet. He's only dimmed for now, and if I know this man, I know for a fact that he's going to pull through." I spoke sharply.

Raoul's eyes widened a little, but he merely pursed his lips, and after a moment, stood back up without a word. My attention was drawn in a millisecond when I thought I heard Erik's voice. My head snapped in Erik's direction. "What?"

Erik's eyes had opened, in any case. He looked at me with those beautiful jade eyes I'd come to adore. They could sparkle golden, or turn a furious emerald in a matter of seconds, and they were one of the most entrancing set of eyes I'd come to see. He looked up, over and past me. I turned around to see the man I'd just lectured looking back at Erik. There was some connection between the two that I felt I shouldn't sever. For a good moment, they just stared. Eventually, Erik spoke again.

"Raoul," he managed. "Sh-she is happy with you. Christine. I wish... you two the best." I looked from Erik to Raoul. The young man made no attempt to hide his shock. The very man who had tried to take his life, as well as take Christine, now gave them his blessing, wanted or not. The Vicomte quickly composed himself, and didn't say a word. He merely nodded his head slightly to Erik, and in that moment, I felt as though some unspoken war was over. The wordless fight between the two men had come to a close, and the sigh Erik let out showed me that he was glad the dispute was settled.

"Erik..." I cut the string of silence after a few moments. "You... you are stronger?"

"I..." Erik began, and coughed a little. "I am dying. Maybe... for this moment, I am stronger. But I'll accept this fate... if I must."

I frowned, then my expression somewhat softened. "There was a time at the camp when I cut myself on accident, and Kristen gave me a curious plant that seemed to heal me in a mere matter of seconds. She let me keep some of the miracle plant, and I made you chew it. I don't know if you remember, but I believe that it's going to help. Your wound is going to heal, and you're going to survive."

Erik's jade eyes gleamed for a moment, a spark of hope. But it faltered and dulled after a moment. "Even if it does heal me," he said quietly. Before he could even finish the sentence, I could notice a difference in him. His face wasn't in so much pain as it was before, and his voice was a tad stronger. Not strong like it normally was, of course, but not a hushed, coarse whisper as before. He was still paler than death, though, and blood still stained his clothes, but I believed he was healing. "If I am healed, it still won't account for all the blood I've lost. I'm lucky... to have survived this long. Long enough to make amends before I die."

I hadn't thought about that before. Could all this hope be for nothing? Was he truly a lost cause? "You've survived this long, you can make it another forty years," I hissed. "You _can _be saved."

"Meg Giry, as long as I've known you, you've been a dreamer. You're full of hope, and ideas, and are eager to feed a lost cause. My bittersweet symphony is coming to a close. Can't we enjoy our last moments together?" he sighed, then coughed almost violently.

"I've heard those words before, from myself," I said back. "And my answer will be the same as yours was. We're going to make it, and it's not the end."

Erik looked up again, then after a second, his lips curled into a small smile. "Actually, it-" But the smile vanished in a second, and Erik's eyes grew wide. "It-. I.-" he tried gasping, but I could tell he couldn't breathe. My own smile vanished nearly as quick.

"No... no! Erik!" I began to yell. My heart disappeared in a flash and I could only look in horror as Erik gasped for breath fruitlessly and his pale face turned an icy shade of blue. "Erik!"

Raoul grabbed my shoulder from behind once more, but when I tried to shrug him off, he just grabbed more persistently. "Let me go! Erik!" Erik gasped once, taking in one gulp of air, but then went back to try and suck in more.

"Meg, you can't save him! He's practically already dead!" Raoul tried to reason.

"He's _not!" _I screamed. "He's _not! Erik!"_

I watched on in pure fear as Erik's chest stopped moving, and he didn't inhale his next breath.

"_ERIK!"_

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><p><em>(Didn't actually name this chapter off of The Verve's song... :P)<em>


	27. Beloved

**_Chapter 27: Beloved_**

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><p>My mother, Antoinette Giry, and I passed laggardly down the sidewalk. The elder woman, punctual by nature, but usually spotted with a twinkling eye and knowing smile, had nothing to smile about. Her graying hair looked even more colorless in the October mist that shrouded the streets of Paris. A worried wrinkle was creased what looked like permanently in her brow, and her sharp blue eyes looked a dull shade today. The woman looked downward at the concrete sidewalk as they advanced further and further through the foggy, late-morning haze. Her black dress was nearly identical to the one I wore, both long, silky, but made with a much cheaper substitute than real silk, and complete with a fretted veil to hide our faces.<p>

My friends might've once claimed I was a happy, cheerful, and mischievous girl who loved to dance and solve puzzles. A girl with a sunny disposition, an ego hard to kill, and a mind-set that was unbreakable. But now, only a silhouette of the girl described trudged through the streets. My face was pale, not only by the hazy air lining the city. My long, blond hair's true beauty was hidden up in a bun, not unlike my mother's. My face was emotionless, although there were clears signs of despair and sadness leaking through my mask. There were tear stains running down, making a clear path through my pearl-white powder makeup. My posture was somewhat poor, and I leaned slightly as I walked on my way. It was probably clear that I was troubled, and had been for some time, but nothing could be done to fix the past.

The two of us women hurried on our way, perhaps too quickly for women of our current emotion and in obvious mourning. Yet, we pushed through the crowds with slight speed, and sharply wound our way from the main sidewalk to an alley, where the two of us turned into various other alleyways before emerging through a backway towards our apartment home. Mother looked around, silently nodding to me after a moment. We hurried over to the staircase and almost soundlessly flew up one flight of stairs. The Madame, key in hand, quickly unlocked the door, and allowed me to scurry in before she looked round, stepped inside, and closed the door, locking it behind her.

The Madame turned around to face the dark interior of our pitiful home. It was piled with things that could either be tossed out or put away easily, but in our dismay, we hadn't bothered to do. The woman's tired eyes traveled from our dining table currently piled with papers, to the couch where clothing was thrown across as if in attempt at abstract art, to the multiple packs and suitcases that lined the floor around the wall and finally to my dismayed face. Mother had trouble reading through the mask I had put on in attempt to hide my emotions. The older woman's eyes softened as she sighed.

My gaze flitted to my mother, face still emotionless. Slowly, I reached up for my veil and took it off, letting my hair dart a little bit outwards, but I made no attempt to fix it.

"He was important to me too, Meg," her mother said softly. I took little to no notice that my mother spoke, and only placed the veil down on the overcrowded table. "I knew him well. He was a good man."

I paused a moment. "Yes," I eventually sighed. "And he will be very much missed by all of us."

The Madame's's lip twitched downward. "I don't believe he quite knows the impact he made on you and me, on everyone. He didn't realize his value in the world."

The funeral had put both of us in a foul mood, and I don't believe I'd smiled since at least yesterday. I couldn't muster the spirits or a reason to. The service itself was relatively short, and my mother and I had to try and blend in the back of the church. We couldn't stand out at a funeral, where people we knew would be able to recognize us. I was still wanted for aiding a criminal and after what happened on May 11th, my alibi wasn't the best. I'd been laying low for months now. My past self wanted nothing but to be recognized, to have a chance for the world to know my name. Now, I'd do anything to hide from everyone and live in the background the rest of my life.

There were people I knew at the funeral. Noellë had been there, as had some of the other ballet girls that I hadn't seen in forever. I wanted so badly to say hello to them, at least give them a hug, but I couldn't. My mother and I just held our heads down and tried hard to avoid any contact with people. Christine and Raoul weren't there, but I supposed there must've been a reason why they were absent.

It had been nearly five months since George Beaure was killed and the chase had come to a close. It was such a relief to be rid of him, to be able to sit down and not worry that a madman is standing behind you, ready to choke the very life from you. But life had become increasingly... dull. Monotonic and dreary. I'd seen terror, seen death, and I think my mind was forever haunted by it. I could never be truly at peace anymore after going through so much in so little time. It was like being at war. All the ghosts of the past were here to stay for good.

"Do you... want me to put the tea kettle on?" my mother asked gently. I gave a slow, sorrowful nod.

"If you would, please..." I trailed off, and leaned against the wall, sighing again and closing my eyes.

I couldn't believe he was dead. The man had been a legend around the opera, at a point had been one of my best friends. But all it took was one tragic accident to bring one person's life to an end. One person could affect so many people. If only he had realized how important he was before he passed on. I knew that I would miss him so much...

There was suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around me. I didn't open my eyes, but transferred my head to rest on his chest. Powerful hands draped around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I didn't resist and snuggled myself, burying my head in his shoulder. He smelled of coffee and ink, a smell I'd come to love and know so well.

"I'm sorry," Erik muttered softly. I sighed and let a tear run down my cheek.

"All it took was one bullet. Just one," I said quietly.

"The human life is so fragile. If only we could get it right," Erik mumbled. "Micheal Winston was a good man, he shouldn't have had such a premature death."

"I agree," I said. "A wonderful singer, and an equally wonderful cellist. If he wasn't on the stage, he'd be right beside it. I knew him when we were teenagers. He called me a turtledove and played with my hair, and I slapped him across the face." I smiled a small smile as I remembered. The look of shock on his face had been priceless to an eleven year old me.

Five months since Beaure was killed, and Erik had almost completely recovered from the experience. There was a time when I was sure he was gone for good. It had nearly killed me seeing him in such a pitiful, helpless, and painful state. I remembered fighting against Raoul, who was holding me back for my own good. Only after my panic had ceased did I realize that Raoul had not been trying to keep me from him, but was trying to keep me from interfering further. Erik had began coughing and couldn't breathe, and I thought it was the end for him. He suddenly went unconscious and I remembered how I had screamed and frantically tried to get to him.

What happened after that is still a bit of a blur, because of the state I was in. I remembered Christine bursting in through the door, a doctor trailing quickly behind her into the room covered in carnage and death. I _do_ remember the surprised look on the poor doctor's face as he took in the scene before him. Before he could sprint away from this mad-house, Christine took control, leading the doctor to the unconscious man.

I remember falling to my knees, weak with fear and fatigue as the doctor began inspecting him, questioning the three of us, and overall exclaiming that this was the wanted Phantom. Raoul promised him a handsome pay for keeping quiet. The doctor was still in a frenzy over finding the long-wanted man, and suggested that by the amount of blood he'd lost, he's need a transfer quickly, or he wouldn't make it another three days. I remember the feeling of despair completely overtaking me. I knew that blood transfusions were risky and there was only a small chance that he'd live. However, we took the risk.

Raoul and I had each had blood extracted from us, on two different occasions from me. Christine, of course, was out of the question, as she was four months pregnant and finally beginning to show a baby bump. It was painful having blood extracted, and I remembered biting on my lip as I squeezed Christine's hand for consolation. I don't know how much he took, but it must've been an awful lot, because I was lightheaded for a while after that. Erik was brought to Dr. Tony's, as I learned later was the de Chagney's personal doctor, home for treatment, seeing as a criminal of his fame couldn't be allowed into a normal hospital, and by no means could be left in the de Chagney manor. I was worried during that week, pacing the floor of the guest room the de Chagneys had lent me. I must've worn a tear in their carpet from all my pacing and worrying. From what I'd heard of blood transfusions and their results, survival wasn't guaranteed. Who knew if my blood was good enough? Could certain bloods not work? What if _mine_ inflicted some kind of disease or was fatal to him?

The relief that flooded me when Dr. Tony knocked on the de Changey's door with a smile and good news that he'd been awake for nearly three hours and was looking promising. Christine caught me from falling to my knees with a slight chuckle as Raoul shook Dr. Tony's hand. The doctor said that somehow, miraculously, his injury had practically healed itself, and the only problem was the new, foreign blood that was circulating in him. I knew that thanks to that miraculous root, Erik had a fighting chance at survival. He couldn't have us visit, as he was still being monitored, and too much excitement might hurt him. He'd wanted us to know his status, however, and as quickly as he had come, the doctor disappeared to return to his patient.

While we waited for Erik's health to be as stable as it could be, there was the matter of Beaure that we had to deal with. A bloodied corpse found in the sitting room couldn't be huge on reputations. I didn't play a huge part in dealing with the body or cleaning all of the blood up, mostly due to the fact that Christine and I played the part of keeping the servants as unaware as possible and trying to assure everyone that everything was perfectly fine. It was to our advantage that Beaure had set the barn fire, as none of the servants had been in the household during the fight or death. It was when Christine and Dr. Tony rushed into the house that their curiosities turned from the fire to whatever was happening inside the manor. It almost made me want to be one of their servants, because I knew of how much this fueled the fire of gossip. I knew they spoke about me, wondering who I was, why I was here, and why the de Chagneys were being so secretive lately. I'd overheard theories, some far-fetched, and a few that seemed likely. They were aware of a policeman's presence, but had no clue where he was or where he went. I was just thankful none of them was suspicious of his death.

From what I'd heard from Christine, Raoul and Dr. Tony had taken the body from the sitting room and dragged it to the wine cellar until they could secretively dispose of it when the servants had gone to bed. Thank goodness no one had ventured down and spotted the bloody body next to the barrels and bottles. The body had been found the next morning in the forest by a man who was on a leisurely walk. I couldn't help but feel pity for the poor man who stumbled upon the corpse. The newspapers buzzed for days with the news, Beaure's face over all the headlines. A few newspapers had mentions of Erik and I, but only in moderation. They spoke of how Beaure had been working on the trail against my mother, who was 'wrongly accused of being in league with the two criminals'. Lucky for me, many of the servants couldn't read, and for those that could, no pictures of Erik or I were shown.

I felt guilty intruding on the de Chagneys like this, bursting in like a madwoman, then leading a madman and an even madder man behind. I'd forced them both to witness more than any sane person should've been able to stomach, and then made them drag a dead body into the forest in the cold of night. I barged in, taking a room and intruding into their meals, free hours, and lives. I voiced my worries to Christine, but she only gave me a small smile and hugged me, assuring that I wasn't intruding. "Your mother took me in as a daughter, and she accepted me like a sister. Surely this doesn't even begin to cover what I owe the two of you," Christine explained. But I could see that Raoul was getting a bit tiresome with my presence and the burden of Erik being in critical condition.

Two more things that were eating at me were my mother and Kristen. I hadn't seen my mother since I first left the hospital during an attack, and although I'd said goodbye to Kristen, I was still worried for her and Didier. Had they found jobs yet, or been reunited with the children? The whole concept that any of them thought us dead killed me. There was nothing I wanted more than to be wrapped up in my mother's arms again, her soothing voice assuring me everything would be alright. But I decided that if I was ever going to see my mother or Kristen and Dider again, Erik and I would do it together. I'd wait for him to heal.

It wasn't until June when I saw Erik again. Dr. Tony allowed us inside, and I quickly hurried to the small cot where Erik was. He looked sleepy, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. He tried to sit up properly, but couldn't manage quite yet. I didn't care, I was just happy to see him. Christine, Raoul, and the doctor left us alone to each other for a few minutes, and he gave me the first kiss we'd shared in a month. It was like a first kiss all over again. I'd almost forgotten what it was like just being near him, how powerful he was, even when he was this weak.

However, in all happiness, there are dark shadows. I overheard Raoul and Christine talking once, and I don't think any of us thought of each other quite the same after that. Raoul complained of me being here, and the discomfort I brought Christine. Christine tried arguing that wasn't the case, and that she had no problem with me being here. But when Raoul prodded that the fact I was in a relationship with the Phantom, Christine was quiet. She admitted that she found it odd, and that she didn't think of me in the same way she used to. Whether she thought of me in a better or worse way was up to my own judgment, but I knew for a fact that neither of them approved of our peculiar affinity.

Another month after that, Erik was walking, talking, and behaving like normal. He still slept a lot, and would sometimes catch a 24-hour sickness, but things were more promising than ever. Erik and I spoke of leaving the de Chagneys and Dr. Tony's care, and I eventually told Christine that the two of us were taking our leave to return to my mother. I was anxious to let her know that we were both alive, maybe not wholly well, but at least alive. Christine seemed a bit sad to see me go, but didn't try to stop us from leaving. I could tell that Christine was doleful to see me go, but would be relived by getting Erik away from herself. Raoul seemed even more eager to see the man go away from his wife. I didn't know if Erik noticed the obvious tension that he had caused, but was only glad that he didn't mention it to me. I knew for myself that Christine's charm no longer effected him, I didn't need him to tell me himself.

They lent us clothing to hide ourselves, because although we were yesterday's news, we didn't even want to have a chance of being recognized. They waved us goodbye, and I haven't seen either of them since.

When we arrived at my old apartment, nostalgia already overtook me. I smiled for the first time in a while, and helped Erik up the staircase before knocking at the door. When my mother answered it, she almost fainted dead away with shock and surprise. Nonetheless, she screamed and hugged me for a good minute. We laughed, cried, and talked for hours, catching up on the lost months. My mother wasn't as shocked as I thought she might be when I hesitantly told her of our relationship. Kristen and Didier had kept an eye on my mother for a bit, assuring her we were alive and well. But after a while, not even they were sure. They had gone off in search of work or money weeks ago, and none of us have seen them since. I wished we would meet them once again, so we could put use to all the money we'd been fighting for this whole time. Not every story has a happy ending, I suppose.

So three months later, here we are. Still hiding, still healing, but we're together. Erik's practically back to normal, my mother had recovered from her own attack long ago, and only once in a while could I tell I'd been shot in the leg. We'd all been through a lot, but just because we were finished running and fighting didn't mean our own story was over. In fact, we were just about to begin a new one, as our overflowing suitcases showed. I sighed against Erik's chest, then pulled my face back so I could look at him.

Maybe he wasn't handsome, or was considered ugly in the eyes of everyone else. Maybe he was a criminal, a murderer, and had a bad side you didn't want to be on. But he was the most wonderful person to me. He looked down, his emerald eyes glimmering. "Michael was a good man, but he's in a much better place now. We should be celebrating him, not sitting here like logs."

"Wise words," he chuckled.

"What do you think the new home will be like?" I asked, leaning out of his arms and against the wall. With so much money, we could do whatever we wanted! Mother and I could pay off all our bills, and still live like royalty. But with everything that had happened in Paris, there was nothing more that any of us wanted than to leave the bustle and hurry of the city life. My mother spotted an attractive little cottage in a small city on the coast while she was traveling home from a short trip. She fell in love with it immediately, and it finally came to the day when we finally left Paris. "I've lived in Paris my whole life, our adventure aside. I can hardly imagine what it'll be like."

"Quieter, I imagine," Erik commented, right as the tea kettle began to whistle. My mother quickly took it off the stove and began pouring our drinks. His home in the catacombs had been abandoned long ago, but he still found the noise of the city at night annoying and quite distracting from sleep. I admit that was much more peaceful when we slept in the gypsy camp, with no voices calling out or light-night carriages rambling by, the horse's clops keeping time. Out there, there was only the sound of frogs and crickets, and the stars were so numerous they couldn't be counted. We spent many a night just looking up at the stars, or talking around a fire, laughing into the wee morning hours.

"Immensely," I agreed. I reached down and took Erik's hand in mine, squeezing it gently. "A new adventure," I said with a small smile. "That's all this is."

Erik just gave a small smirk, and in response, leaned down to my height and pressed his lips onto mine in what I hoped was to be a lengthy kiss. However, it was suddenly broken when Erik's head whipped back, his face contorted in surprise, and my mother with a pan she was packing held tightly in her hand. Her expression wasn't the most amused I'd ever seen, and I blushed at being caught again.

"The next time I catch you trying to eat my daughter's face, I'll shove this pan in a place where the sun doesn't shine," my mother growled, but had a playful twinkle in her eye. I thought I caught a slight blush against his pale cheeks as he stood back to his normal height and rubbed the spot on his back where my mother had struck him with the pan.

"Of course, Madame," he grumbled. My mother sniffed and turned around, packing the pan in it's proper place. Erik turned back to me, still rubbing his back. "Your mother has one hell of a swing."

I giggled and pecked his cheek. "Why do you think us ballerinas were always so disciplined? Don't want permanent damage to ourselves, do we?"

Erik sighed. "You'd better finish your packing, anything you leave behind you won't be able to recover." I agreed and nodded, giving his hand another squeeze and walking back to my own room to finalize the packing.

* * *

><p>Erik didn't really know if Meg had much packing left to do, but only needed an excuse to get her away for a period of time. He had something far more important on his mind than Meg remembering her perfumes. His hand reached in his pocket and he fingered the ring. It wasn't the best or fanciest ring, but it was still very attractive. It was a plain golden band, with small designs carved into it's sides. He hoped it was very becoming, and that Meg would find it attractive.<p>

"Now's not the time, Erik," he heard the Madame say, and he turned to face her. She had seen him pondering with his hand in his coat pocket, and knew very well what was in there. Erik had let her know days ago that he was planning to present Meg with the ring in hope she'd be his bride, and although her mother was somewhat hesitant, as any mother would be, she finally agreed and gave him her approval. However, Erik was not the best proposer of marriage. His last proposal went... less than desired, one might say. It was obvious he wasn't going to force Meg into it like he had tried with Christine. No, looking back, he realized that what he shared with Christine had not been love. It had been infatuation, and it was obvious to him now why she had been so terrified of him. He thanked his stars Meg had come about to save him from his eternal mourning.

"I agree," Erik mumbled. "I was only thinking."

"The time will come, just have patience," Madame Giry smiled a bit, zipping up a suitcase. "You've known each other less than a year, and already the two of you know each other so well. It's terrifying to me, you know that? I keep her away from boys and suitors as well as I can her whole life, only for her to choose the infamous Phantom of the Opera." She sighed. "Why do I even try to contain her? She's a free spirit, you know that."

"Don't I ever," Erik smiled. "She's very different, in a good way."

"Well, I should hope so," the Madame said loudly. "She's my daughter, she'd better be different for the better!"

Meg entered the room, blushing a little, with two bags filled up with belongings. "Mother..." she trailed off, but grinned.

"Only stating the obvious," the Madame huffed and poured the remaining water in the kettle down the drain, then packed it away. "What do you two say to a cup of tea before we're off? A final salute to Paris!" Meg and Erik both nodded, and sat down for a final goodbye.

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><p>A new adventure. The thought of it was exhilarating and terrifying, and I bit my lip in excitement. Home on the coast! I could already hear the seagulls calling out, smell the salt in the air, feel the sea breeze tossing my hair every which way. So far away from where'd I'd called home my whole life. A brand new start to life.<p>

Erik took his hand in mine and I smiled. Never would I have thought I'd have someone as brilliant, as enigmatic, or as troublesome as the Phantom of the Opera by my side as I began my new lie. But now, I couldn't picture a future without him.

We'd gone through a wild year, being introduced to new friends and enemies, running for our lives, and trying to find ourselves among trying to learn about the other. We escaped death, too closely, sometimes, and we'd gone through more than some go through in a lifetime, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

I sighed as I peered through the Parisian fog. The sun tried to shine through with little effort, but still shrouded the streets with a mystical glow. Maybe I'd miss Paris more than I thought I might. But no matter. The future was well on it's way, and with Erik and my own hands entwined, we took our first steps in a new adventure.

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><p><strong><em>OHMYGOSH *dies* IT'S DONE! :,D<em>  
><strong>

_**Alright, so this chapter certainly needs a note at the end. You can skip it if you choose, but you'd miss on some thank yous and notes. :)**_

_**Things that inspired me were...**_

_**-Erik/Meg authors on Fanfiction and their amazing stories! Although they're few compared to the sickening number of Erik/Christine stories, they're all brilliant. The artwork posted is scanty too, and I'd love to see all your drawings up on there, if you can. :P Fanvids are a big inspiration as well. Plus all of you! Your comments and criticisms have built this plot so much, you don't even know how much I adore you all! :,)**_

_**-Pandora was a huge help. It allowed me to listen to the bands Bond, Escala, Celtic Woman (GAH I LOVE THEM!) and Nightwish, which inspire the dramatic/action-y flair to the chapters. Composers such as Danny Elfman, Hans Zimmer, and of course, Andrew Lloyd Webber, also inspired the chapters.**_

_**I usually say a personal thanks to everyone, but there are so many of you that I'd be ninety by the time I thanked you all! So here's a HUGE shout out to all of you. Thanks SO much for all you've done to boost my spirits, urge me to write, and offer the finest criticisms. I'm currently rereading the whole story and revising it. Chapter one is changed a lot as of April 2012, so if you viewed it before then, checking that out might be fun. **_

_**Please look out in the future for any new Erik/Meg stories of mine, and I'd be very gracious if you subscribed! Thanks a ton for sticking with me this whole time!**_

_**Best Wishes,**_

**_Aktress._  
><strong>


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